The Parcaex Ritual
by Vanatuhi
Summary: Post-Season 3 - - When the prospect of Lucifer rising from Hell arises, Sam knows that he will be needing his brother back. Well, that's if he wants to live. -Written before Season 4, so any similarities are purely coincidental-
1. Prologue

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Note – **_This prologue is simply my written version of the final five minutes of Season Three, so it makes no difference whether you read it or not – Skip to the first chapter if you like.  
__Either way, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.  
__Review thanks!_

**Prologue**

They knew it was over.

'Could Lilith get past the sprinklers?'

Sam and Ruby moved swiftly through the dark hallway, knowing, that with so little time left, there was very little chance of saving Dean from the fate that beckoned him.

'At her pay grade she could sweat in the holy water,' Ruby replied sourly as they walked into the next room, listening to Dean's attempts to evacuate the horrified family from the house, the anxiety of what he was about to face clearly expressed within his voice.

It was all Sam could do to keep himself standing upright as the time crept ever closer to midnight, much too quickly.

'Okay, you win,' Sam declared, turning to face Ruby, a solemn expression on his face, 'What do I have to do?'

'What do you mean?'

'To save Dean,' he said desperately, 'What do you need me to do?'

Dean, who had just entered the room, pulled Sam away, hissing, 'What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?'

'Just shut up for a second,' Sam insisted, throwing Dean off him, his heart rate rising rapidly along with his impatience, and the fear for his brother's life was tearing him up inside. 'Ruby!'

'You had your chance.' she snarled, pushing him out of her face. 'You can't just flip a switch. We needed _time_.'

With two minutes left until midnight, Sam was now utterly desperate, 'There's got to be something, some _way!_ Whatever it is… I'll do it!'

Dean, who had heard first-hand from Ruby that there was no way of saving him, grabbed Sam by the shoulder again.

'Don't – Dean! I'm not going to let you go to hell! Dean-'

'-YES YOU ARE!' He let Sam go, their eyes piercing one another's, and Dean stared at his brother, a determined look etched into his face as he whispered, 'Yes you are.'

Sam opened his mouth to retaliate, but Dean continued, fighting to keep his tears back. 'I'm sorry. I mean, this is my fault, and I know that. But what you're doing, it's not going to save me,' he sighed, 'It's only going to kill you.'

Sam stopped, tears swelling in his eyes and knowing that what his brother said was true, just refusing to accept it. He just couldn't step aside and watch his brother die like this. 'Then what am I supposed to do?'

He half-expected Dean to come up with some joke or witty remark that would break the tearful moment between them – but it didn't come.

Sam couldn't believe what he was seeing. _Dean had given up._

After a whole lifetime of fighting, after everything they had done this past year in an attempt to free Dean from his dead, his brother was bowing to the fact that he was going to Hell.

'Keep fighting,' Dean whispered, 'Take care of my wheels. Sam, remember what Dad taught you, okay?' A crystal droplet fell from Dean's eyes and plummeted to the floor, the first of many to come and he made no attempt to hold them back, 'And remember what _I_ taught you.'

A weak smile broke the lines on his face, and a harsh silence pierced the night, the fatal silence ensuing and the sharp breeze deadly against their eyes.

A thousand emotions poured through Sam's mind as he gazed into his brother's teary eyes, a mutual understanding lying between them that the time had come to say goodbye once more – for Dean to part this world, never to return.

The chiming of a bell broke the silence, and they looked over at the source. Sam, Dean and Ruby all read the time engraved upon the grandfather clock hanging upon the wall, tall and menacing above their heads, and they each knew exactly what it meant.

12:00am.

_Midnight._

Dean's time was finally up.

'I'm sorry Dean,' Ruby said, 'I wouldn't wish this upon my worst enemy.'

And at last they heard it. The horrific sound of barking in the distance; an omen of death to signify that there was, indeed, no hope for Dean now.

Sam refused to stop staring into Dean's eyes, attempting to preserve the memory of his brother that would soon be lost into shadows, into the darkness of hell itself, never to be seen by another living soul. The pain was overwhelming, and Sam strained to keep himself from collapsing in tears and crying for his doomed brother.

But not just yet.

_Perhaps there is still hope_, Sam insisted. _Perhaps there is still a way to save him._

'Dean, we-' Sam began, but abruptly stopped as he noticed the look of horror etched into his brother's face. 'What is it?'

Dean gulped, 'Hell Hound.'

'Where?'

'There.'

Sam followed Dean's eyes, and he could not see the creature. But he sure as hell could hear it; the snarling growl of a monstrous animal ready to pounce, to strike it's victim dead. The three of them braced themselves, ready for the moment that they knew would come.

And sure enough, it came.

In an instant, the three of them simultaneously sprinted through the doors to their right, through the dining room and into the study, locking the door and pressing their weight upon it, attempting to keep their worst nightmares at bay.

With sharp adrenaline pumping through his veins, Dean could hear the hound throwing itself upon the door; feel the phenomenal weight crashing against his thigh and taste death on the tip of his tongue as they listened intently to the sound of their barking that echoed throughout the house.

After a single moment's hesitation to clear his mind, Dean left the door and ran to the table set in the center of the room, pulling a bag from it's surface. He then hurried back to Sam and Ruby, pouring the contents at their feet and surrounding the door with a white salt known as sulphur.

The barking and destruction upon the door instantly ceased, and the atmosphere around them became silent again – deathly silent, and it sent a cold, nauseating chill up Sam's spine. Dean didn't waste any time, moving to the window and bordering it with sulphur as well, though they all knew that it wouldn't hold for too long.

'Give me the knife,' Ruby demanded; reaching out her hand for the weapon, 'Maybe I can fight them off.'

'What?'

'Come on! That dust won't last forever!'

Sam hesitated, and then pulled the infamous demon-killing knife from his jacket.

'Wait!' Dean's voice echoed through the room and Sam stopped in his tracks. Ruby gave dean a look of sheer wonder.

'You wanna die?' She snarled.

Dean looked at her in suspicion. Through the severity of her voice he caught a tone quite unlike her own, but familiar none-the-less.

'Sam,' he whispered, 'that's not Ruby. _THAT'S NOT RUBY!_'

Sam lifted the knife and prepared to strike, but he wasn't fast enough. He was thrown backwards by an invisible force, hitting the back wall with a harsh thud, and hanging there, incapable of moving. Dean was thrown back in the same instant, landing on the table with his arms spread and utterly defenseless, a crooked smile now tightening on Ruby's – or rather, Lilith's – face.

'How long have you been in her?' Dean growled, fierce anger swelling within his stomach.

'Not long,' she admitted, 'But I like it, it's all grown up and pretty.'

'And where's Ruby?' Sam asked.

Lilith grinned, 'She was a _very_ bad girl. So I sent her far, far away.'

'You know, I should have seen it before,' Dean said, 'But you all look alike to me.'

Lilith ignored him and kept her attention focused on Sam, her smile growing wider with each passing second.

'Hello, Sam,' she walked towards him, 'I've wanted to meet you for a very long time.'

She leaned forward, and – quite unexpectedly – with Sam unable to stop her, she kissed him.

'Your lips are soft,' she whispered.

'All right,' he said, 'So, you have me – let my brother go.'

Lilith laughed coldly at him. 'Silly goose. You want to bargain? Well you've got to have something I want… Which you don't.'

'So this is your big plan, huh?' Dean spat, 'Drag me to hell, kill Sam… And then what? Become Queen Bitch?'

She turned to him, smirking, 'I don't have to answer to puppy chow.'

And with that same sick smile upon her face, Lilith slowly backed away towards the door. Sam and Dean were powerless to prevent it, and she bent down, scratching a path in the line of sulphur, all that was keeping the Hell Hounds from tearing Dean apart.

'Sick 'em, boys!'

The door swung violently open, a putrid smell filled the room and Sam watched helplessly as his brother was dragged from the table by a creature he could not see, his shirt being torn apart by invisible claws, and his screams echoed from the ceiling in conjunction with the roars and hungry growls from the Hell Hounds.

Within seconds Dean's body was bleeding terribly, and his wails slowly faded into the night, the life leaving him forever.

The sickening taste of blood filled Sam's mouth before he realised that he'd been biting his lip. As he watched his brother die, slowly and painfully, agony beyond anything he'd felt before rushed over him as Dean was torn apart quite literally by the Hounds, peeling the flesh from his skin and leaving him in complete bone and vein, blood dripping from his knees.

And then there was silence.

The screams subsided, the Hell Hounds couldn't be heard anymore and Sam felt his own body go numb as he took in what had just happened. Torrents of blood flowed from Dean's mutilated body, and the light from his eyes faded forever into the sinister darkness of Hell.

'NO!' Sam couldn't take it. He wanted nothing more than to black out in that moment, to simply die and not have to withstand this kind of pain.

'Yes!' Lilith growled hungrily, moving forwards towards him and reaching out with her palms flat towards him. A blinding white light emitted from her outstretched hand, and Sam – with newly freed limbs – blocked the light from his eyes, crouched into the corner and waited for the end.

But almost as soon as it had come, the light disappeared again, and Sam looked up to see Lilith standing before him, eyes wide with shock at the ineffectiveness of her attack.

Standing with an unfamiliar confidence washing over him, Sam advanced towards her. 'Back!' Lilith yelled, thrusting her hand forwards again. 'I said back!' There was a hint of fright in her voice now.

For a reason unknown to him, Sam was immune from her attack. But he did not dwell upon this. Bending down to pick up the Demon-killing knife they had brought with them, he swung it high in the air and smirked at the cowering Lilith.

'I don't think so,' he grinned, plunging down with the knife. But before he could strike her, a thick black smoke erupted from her mouth and evaporated through the ceiling, a lifeless shell of her formerly inhabited body hanging loose for a moment before slumping to the floor.

The body of Ruby crashed at his feet, but Sam cared not for her or Lilith at that moment. He didn't think he would care for anything else ever again as he crouched down, a terrible sadness filling his mind, beside the mangled body of Dean. Lifting his brother's head, whose lifeless form stared up at the ceiling, Sam cradled it in his arms.

'Dean,' he sobbed, attempting to form words, but the pain was still too near. 'No… Dean!'

Through the faded green eyes that were once Dean's, a pain worse than death had befallen Sam's brother.

Deep inside the fifty thousand square mile darkness of Hell, a tightly constructed network of retracting chains and crashing thunder echoed through the darkness, flashes of lightning erupted from the varying patches of darkness and light, and right in the center – suspended between a set of chains and meat hooks embedded into his wrists, ankles, rib cage and shoulders – lay Dean, excruciating agony befalling him in the most gruesome place known to man.

As Sam moaned over his decaying body, Dean's screams echoed into the darkness around him. 'Sam! God, NO! HELP ME!'

Inside, he knew that no matter how loud he screamed, nobody would ever hear him, and his howls of terror and pain would simply keep echoing away into the distance. But he didn't stop. 'Save me somebody! PLEASE!'

'SAAAAAAAAM!'

* * *

**And now, let the story begin.**

**Keep reading, and I hope you enjoy!**

**Cheers =D**


	2. Chapter One

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Note - **_This fic was actually written before Season Four was released, so any similarities are purely coincidental. _

_Thanks for reading! Reviews are strongly appreciated._

**Chapter One**

_  
Last time I was here, I watched my father die. I watched him die to save Dean._

Sam lay beneath the white linen of his hospital bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling as time flew past him, hours within seconds, days within minutes. He had no idea exactly how long he had been lying there for, though he suspected it was quite a while. But he cared not; in fact, he cared for nothing at that moment.

_They're all gone, and what do I have to show for it?_

The hospital had a sickening familiarity to it, and after what happened to his father, Sam had never wished to come back here. He had lost everybody that he had ever loved, and being at the scene of one of their untimely deaths reminded him of just how much he had given; how long he had suffered for.

_I lost Mom. I lost Jess. Dad is dead, and now Dean too._

And on top of all that, he couldn't even remember how he had gotten there in the first place. One moment he had been crouching over Dean's mutilated corpse, and the next…

_I must have blacked out,_ he assumed.

And the next moment he had woken up here. _Of all the hospitals_, he thought. But it was when his conscious memory caught up to him, and he remembered where Dean was, that a sick emptiness settle within the pits of his stomach.

Sam felt a single tear reach his eye at the thought of his brother. There was no explanation in the world that could describe the depth of his sorrow – the extent of his grief.

In an attempt to put this misery from his mind, Sam sat up and glanced through the doorway, where he caught a glimpse of two important-looking men in rather expensive suits reasoning with a young doctor. Their words were inaudible, no matter how hard Sam strained his ears, but the doctor seemed to give in to the men after a short argument, moving to the side and beckoning them reluctantly into Sam's ward.

'Well, well, well,' the first man smirked, 'if it isn't Sammy Winchester.'

After closing the doors behind him, a bemused expression upon his face, the second man approached the side of Sam's bed and flashed a golden badge across his line of vision. 'I am Agent Moore and this here,' he gestured towards his partner, 'is Agent Forster. We're Federal Marshals.'

After surveying Sam's immediate reaction to this, Agent Forster leaned in closer. 'No Sam, we're not imposters,' he grinned, before stepping back beside his partner, adding, 'Unlike you.'

'What do you want?' Sam snarled, glaring at the two of them. He was in no mood to deal with feds at that moment. But they just stood beside him, smiling threateningly, knowing that they had him exactly where they wanted.

Agent Moore stared at him in amusement, 'What do we want?' he chuckled, 'Oh, where to start? Can you just imagine the length of your criminal record, Sam? A lifetime of credit-card frauds, accessory to murder, suspicious circumstances arising all over the country – exactly where you happen to be at the time – and not to mention escape from a state penitentiary.'

'Twice.' Forster piped in.

'The second escape,' Moore continued, 'Well, truthfully, we don't know what to believe. When the authorities arrived at the scene, the whole prison was a large pile of smoking debris. We found the bodies of eighteen men and women who were working shifts at the prison that night, and an even larger number in prisoners.

'But Sam and Dean Winchester – the pride of all Hendrickson's dealings – were nowhere to be found. Obviously, we knew instantly who was behind the whole masquerade, and ever since that we've been closing in on your tail, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.'

'So, what?' Sam questioned, 'You've been assigned to Hendrickson's job after he met his death that night at the prison?'

Forster laughed at this, 'Sammy boy, listen. We are in no league with that obsessive lunatic. Agent Moore and I, in fact, _employed _Agent Hendrickson. He worked for us, doing what _we_ told him to. We were always the higher power, and boy, if you think he was bad, then you're going to have one hell of a time with us.'

'But Sam,' he went on, holding up one finger, 'we're not here to put you away… just yet.' He shook his head.

Moore took over the talking from there. 'Only last night, we had an inside man inform us of your exact location. He spoke of strange disturbances within a house that you had taken refuge in. We came in, fully armored with weapons raised, and do you know what we found?'

'A Snoopy figurine from one in three specially marked packs of Fruit Loops?'

Forster looked at him for a moment, sighing. 'Truly your brothers kin,' he commented. 'No, Sam. It was _you_, upstairs, unconscious and crouched over the mutilated body of your brother with quite an interesting blade in your hands. Not to mention, downstairs in the house, an elderly man with a broken neck, and a pet dog _brutally_ slaughtered in the basement.'

Sam said nothing, but kept his facial expression clean as his mind reviewed everything that had happened that night, flashbacks to the image of the dead family pet and the little girl's grandfather. It was truly sickening.

'But there was one question that really stumped us.' Sam looked up. 'Why would you kill someone of your own flesh and blood? Why murder someone you've spent your whole life attached to? Somebody you've always held close? Especially in such a brutal and violent way as you did. This is where we're lost.'

'Ah, and the plot thickens,' Sam said stubbornly.

Forster ignored this, and continued, 'We want to know _why_ you did it, and don't even _bother_ starting with all this ghost crap we've heard so much about, or I'll personally make sure that you never see the light of day again.'

'Not that you will anyway,' Moor said, 'But I think you catch our drift. Tell us, Sam, why would you do such a thing?'

Sam knew he was in a tight spot, but was still too shaken by Dean's death to even begin thinking straight, let along figure out some way to get himself out of this one.

Sam's silence seemed to irritate the Agents, and he expected some kind of screaming session to begin, when the door swung open, and a voice called to the Marshals, 'Agents, I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to leave now. You may return later, but we are scheduled for testing on Mr. Winchester, now that he is awake again.'

The voice seemed familiar to Sam, and yet his mind was too puzzled to recognise it, or even attempt to try for that matter. His neck was stiff, and so he did not bother to turn his head. He did not want to draw attention to the Agents again before they left.

Moore stared for a second, 'Fine. But when you have finished these… _tests_, I want you to report directly to us,' he demanded, 'We want to know every last detail. You got that?' He leant in closer to Sam, so that not even his partner could hear him whisper, '_Enjoy your last moments, little boy. Playtime is over. You're mine.'_

Forster left the room, but Moore stopped in the doorway on his way out. 'By the way, if you could also send us the autopsy results from his brother, that would be much appreciated.' He put on a sarcastic smile and left, closing the door behind him.

'Well, that wasn't too difficult now, was it Sammy?' The voice moved to Sam's side, and looked upon the face of an old friend, a strange warmth spreading through his body.

'Bobby?'

'The one and only. Now, Sam, we have to move quickly. Those guys will be back before long, and they have eyes all over the hospital – so escaping from here may be a _little _more difficult than we had first thought.'

'Bobby,' Sam whispered, 'Do you know about-'

'-Dean?' he interrupted. 'Yes Sam, I know. But put that from your mind for the moment, we have an other problem on our hands, and we need to get you out of here as fast as we possibly can.'

At this, Sam sat up in his bed and pushed back the linen, looking up at Bobby before him. The sight of Bobby in this condition shocked him. He had combed his hair, shaven, tidied himself up and was wearing a neat suit, looking very professional and not at all the careworn, get-your-hands-dirty Bobby that he remembered.

'Bobby!' he exclaimed, 'You're… you're…'

Bobby looked at him in amusement.

'You're clean!'

Bobby laughed at this, still moving about as if preparing for something. Sam sighed with relief. He couldn't speak of how glad he was to see such a friendly face in a dark time like this, and suppressed a small smile.

'Lay still, Sam, we have some work to do here.' Sam nodded obediently, sitting back against his pillow. Bobby walked over to his heart-rate monitor and began pressing keys. After a few moments, he nodded in acceptance and called into the hallway; 'Come on, body! Let's get this over with!'

To Sam's shock, a group of eight men crowded into the room within a matter of seconds, all approaching different machines. A few stopped beside his bed and began attaching wired cables to his chest, and Sam noticed that the last man who walked in held a large Body Bad in his arms.

'Bobby, what-'

'Quiet, Sam. You're just going to have to trust me on this one. We don't have much time, and this is the only way we figured that we could get your out of here safely and unquestioned.'

'I don't understand,' he retorted.

'Everything will be explained,' Bobby replied with his back to the bed, fiddling with something on the table hidden from Sam's view, 'But not now.'

He turned around, holding before him a large syringe, and Sam stiffened at the sight of it. One of the men gave a small nod, and the room became eerily silent as Bobby approached him. 'Hold out your arm,' he insisted, and Sam hesitated. 'Don't be a wuss, it will only hurt for a moment.'

Sam tensed as Bobby came within reach, but knew that he had no choice but to trust him.

_How could things possibly get any worse, anyway?_

But there was something highly suspicious at work here at any rate. Sam simply gave in and held up his arm, accepting his fate.

A white-hot pain seared through his limb, spreading to his fingertips and burning to the bone. His insides began to cramp, and the whites of his eyes shone through the darkness as his head rolled back, and Sam's body temperature dropped rapidly.

The pain subsided, and his vision went black.

He knew no more.

_'Time of death, 12:46am.'_

_********_

The world was black.

Sam couldn't see a thing, though he was quite sure that his eyes were open. A putrid smell overcame his senses, and he attempted to shuffle as he wrinkled his nose in horror at the stench, but found himself incapable of moving.

_Perhaps I'm dreaming_, he thought.

_Or perhaps I'm dead?_

The sound of soft, pattering feet on tiled surface echoes beneath him, and it was in this moment that it struck him where he was.

The body bag in which he lay sat in the centre of a small room, perched upon a large table and the only contrast in the entire room from all the white.

Sam had no idea what was happening. He was lost, confused and utterly helpless, nor did he remember anything that had happened after Bobby pushed that needle into his veins, or have any idea at how he would get out of this mess.

Regaining the feeling in his limbs, Sam pulled his arms free from his sides and felt around the top of the bag for the zip. He pulled the body bag open.

A burning white light blinded him, and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to his surroundings, from complete darkness to the light of the _morgue_. His legs felt as if they would give way at any second, greatly weakened and very slowly recuperating from the drugs effects. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he slowly moved around the enclosed room, allowing his body to gain momentum once more.

When he could see properly, Sam looked down at himself, dressed in neat clothing unknown to him, and realised that this must have all been the work of Bobby.

_That sly dog_, he muttered.

A sudden noise erupted from somewhere close, but not within the room itself, and Sam spun around to face the entrance, his fists raised high in a defensive position as the door flew off it's hinges and crashed to the floor at his feet.

Sam loosened the tension in his fingers as Bobby emerged from the doorway, quickly scanned the room and ran over to him. 'Sam,' he whispered, looking him up and down, sounding quite desperate and extremely rushed, 'I must say, it's good to see you up and about again, but hurry up, we're still in great danger here.'

Clueless as to what was going on, Sam followed at Bobby's heels, making their way through the white corridors, walking at a swift pace and not wasting any time. But this was all moving much too quickly for Sam's mind to take in, who stopped in his tracks defiantly. Bobby turned around and stared at him in confusion, 'Sam, what the hell do you think you're doing?'

'Tell me what's going on.' He demanded, 'I've just woken up in a goddamn morgue, and I've got no idea how I got there. Why-'

'Sam,' Bobby growled, grabbing his arm, 'There's no _time_! You must follow me quickly – we need to get out of this place.'

'No, Bobby!' Sam exclaimed, pulling his arm free of Bobby's grasp. 'Tell me what's going on and I will decide for myself whether to trust you or not.'

Bobby stopped, staring at him impatiently, 'Okay Sam,' he sighed, 'First thing you need to know, is that there are Demons _everywhere_, thousands of them, probably circling this very building as we speak. What makes matters worse is that _every_ single one of them seems to be after _you_. They had the hospital completely smothered, stationed all over the place, and I'm even convinced that some of the staff were also possessed. They were watching you, Sam. _Waiting_ for you.

'By then we had no choice – we had to get you out, and we had to do it _fast_. Basically, we injected you with an anabolic drug known as Medicina de Muerte. The drug is actually illegal in 43 states, but there are ways around that. What the Medicina de Muerte did was shut down most of the body's vital organs for a short period of time, causing you to appear dead whilst keeping you alive through a complicated and exact chemical process. Your life-support system recorded it as a heart failure, and no questions were asked.'

Bobby stopped for a moment to observe Sam's expression for some kind of reaction, but there was no trace. He wasn't even sure if Sam was listening, but continued anyway. 'The death-like state would only last for up to five minutes before your organs would re-ignite – any longer and your body would not be able to cope without them – and you would be medically alive once more. But your body, recognising this as a disruption within your vital organs, induced a coma, which was to be expected. You've been here in the morgue for approximately fifteen hours. The 'healing' process that your body undertook was estimated to last an entire twenty-four hours, but we've been keeping an eye on you, just in case.' He pointed to the CCTV cameras above him.

Sam nodded in acknowledgement, seemingly uninterested. Bobby frowned, but didn't question him. They stood in silence for a few moments, in deep thought, until Sam decided to speak.

'Bobby,' he croaked, 'What happened to Dean?'

Bobby looked up in alarm, fearing amnesia on Sam's part. But he sighed in relief once he realised that Sam was actually speaking about the _body_ of his brother. 'I'm not exactly sure what happened, but he disappeared from the hospital while you were sleeping. It seems that when the demons realised that _you_ were gone, they took whatever they needed and left.' He sighed, 'I'm sorry, but we couldn't stop them.'

Sam nodded slowly, disappointed. He knew it made no difference to whether Dean would live or die, for he had _been_ there, pinned to a wall, when that decision had been called. But he would liked to have buried his brother, and to have said goodbye to the best friend he'd ever had. He would've given anything for that opportunity.

_But what would they want his body for?_ Sam asked himself.

The only plausible answer that came to his mind was them using his body as a shell – a meat-suit for demonic possession. Sam didn't think he could bear the site of coming face-to-face with a living replica of his brother again. He shuddered and tried to put it from his mind.

'What about Ruby?'

Bobby looked at him, 'What do you mean?'

'Er…Ruby?'

'_Demon_ Ruby?'

'How many other Ruby's do we know?' Sam pointed out, before frowning, 'Hand on, wasn't she there with us when we were found?'

Bobby shrugged, 'Not that I know of. All I heard was that the Feds had found you lying over Dean's corpse. They said nothing about a third person.'

Sam sighed, 'They think I killed him.'

Bobby looked at him curiously, 'This bothers you?'

'Not particularly, it's just…' His voice trailed off.

'Just what?'

'Well, Dean had been hunting for most of his life,' Sam said. 'That's nineteen years from when Dad first started training him. In that time, he's saved hundreds – no, probably _thousands_ – of people from certain death. To think that after all that, the only recognition he will get is a news report on an attack from his homicidal brother? It just… doesn't seem right.'

'Sam, we live in a world quite unlike what they know. A world where monsters, ghosts, spirits, vampires and demons prowl across the earth – Our job is not only to find and _kill_ these things, but to protect all those who are unaware of them, and to keep them from living in fear of the dark.

'Only a handful of us know what truly happened that night. Sam, we _live_ in this darkness, and we fight this evil. We're the protectors of the innocent, you might say – the Men in Black. Although, in our case,' he surveyed their clothing, 'it's more grey and white.'

Sam smiled, and the silence between them ensued. An unspoken bond lay between them regarding the death of Dean. It was as if part of them both had left forever, never to return.

Returning to a proper state of mind, and suddenly realising the situation they were in, Sam fired up. 'Okay,' he said seriously, 'What are we going to do about all this?'

'Ha_ha_! That's more _like_ it, Sammy!' Bobby beckoned him out the door, 'Let us hurry before this whole place is stormed by Demons.'

They exited the front doors, having met nobody along the way, and out into the harsh cold of the morning. Dean's Chevrolet '67 Impala was parked on the side of the road, and Sam's stomach dropped at the sight of it. This was Dean's pride and joy; the one thing besides his family that he really cared about.

Sam was confused, 'Bobby, how did you get this back? Wouldn't they have taken it once they found Dean's body?'

Bobby shrugged, 'I have my tricks.'

Sam mused, 'Of course you do.'

They pulled the Impala doors open and stepped into the car. Sam wasn't exactly sure whether he was glad to be sitting inside the Impala again or not. In a way, it was just one large reminder of everything he had lost. But he felt a strange connection to it – as if he were somehow closer to Dean just by being _in _the car. It was an odd feeling.

'Where are we off to first?' Sam asked as Bobby turned the ignition.

'I think I've found something that we ought to check out,' he replied, 'And so we're off to Lawrence, Kansas.'

Sam blinked.

'That's right, Sam. We're going home.'

Sam wasn't sure whether he should be happy with this course or not, but he did not protest. He sat back in comfort, resting his eyes as Bobby pulled out onto the busy highway, a long twenty hour road-trip ahead of them.

********

They had barely been on the road for ten minutes when – quite unexpectedly – Sam's cell phone began to ring. His first instinct was to reach into his pockets, but when he found nothing Bobby pointed to the glove compartment.

Sam turned to him; 'They left the _phone_ in here too?'

Bobby shrugged, 'I don't think they opened the car at all, actually. I took the keys from Dean's body before any of the feds would pluck up the courage to search him, and the windows seemed to be intact.'

Sam pulled out the mobile and flipped it open, marveling at the Federal Agents obvious stupidity. 'Hello?'

_'Sam, it's me.'_

Sam sat up, eyes wide, 'Ruby? Where are you, I need to talk to you.'

_'I need your help, please come quickly!'_

And the call ended. Sam slowly shut the phone, wondering what kind of situation a Demon could become trapped in that _he_ would be able to help with.

_And how the hell had she gotten away from the house before the feds arrived?_

'What the hell was that all about?' Bobby asked, 'And what did _Ruby_ want?'

Sam shrugged, 'She was in trouble of some sort. She just said, "Come quickly".'

'And she didn't say where?'

'No, she didn't.'

Bobby frowned, lapsing into silence for a few minutes, and Sam let him think. He stared out the window beside him at the landscapes that raced by, with little consideration for how much time was passing, when Bobby spoke at last. 'I think I know where Ruby is.'

Sam didn't even bother to ask him how he knew. 'Where?'

Bobby hesitated. 'With them.'

'With… who? The Demons?'

Bobby nodded.

'How do you-'

'Sam, I don't have all the answers myself, but things are getting very suspicious. With every move they make, the Demons are acting in accordance with an ancient ritual known as Parcaex. The Parcaex Ritual, also known as "Tria Fata", is one of the oldest and most horrific rituals known to man.'

Sam stared out the front window at the road ahead of them, which was clouded in mist. 'What exactly does this ritual _do_? And what does Ruby have to do with it?'

Bobby hesitated for a moment again before replying. 'The word "Parcaex" comes from the Roman God of fate, whose name was Parcae. Tria Fata means "Three Fates" from Ancient Roman mythology. I've heard so much about it, but it was always just a myth; I never considered for a _second_ that it would, or _could_ ever be performed. Only a demon can induce this kind of ritual, which is why it's so rare. I found traces of their plan during one of my latest hunts, and I came to find you boys right away. But by the time I had tracked you down, Dean was dead and you were in hospital, unconscious with shock.

'Sam, if they succeed in performing this ritual, it could quite possibly mean the end for all of us. The world would fall to its knees, and there would be absolutely nothing we could do to stop it. At all costs, we _must_ stop them, before it's too late.'

Sam frowned, 'I still don't understand, please tell-'

'Sammy, I swear to you, when I know more – you will too.'

They left it at that, and sat silent once more as the Impala scouted its way through the busy streets of Blackwell, just a few miles south of the Kansas border. To pass the time, Sam replayed the last two days in his mind, attempting to pull his head into focus and catch up with everything that was going on.

_Soon_, he thought, _soon my path will become clearer._

Inside his own mind, Sam revisited that room once more, listening to the hungry growls of the Hell Hound, the torturous screams of his brother and the cackling laughter from Lilith as Dean's soul was dragged beneath the surface of the world, never to be seen by another living being. Over and over again, he watched the scene replay in his mind, reminding him of that one dreaded Tuesday that just kept repeating, and he was forced to watch Dean die over and over again every day, stuck in a time loop induced by the Trickster.

But Sam knew that, this time, he wouldn't be waking up again. This was real, and he had to deal with it, for no matter how much he wished it to he otherwise, Dean was gone - and he was stuck here, forever to be tormented by the memory of that night.

In an attempt to put this misery from his mind, Sam switched on the radio, and, by default, onto one of Dean's favourite music stations.

_"It was the Heat of the Moment, telling me what-"_

Sam stared. 'Oh, you've got to be shitting me.'

_"…Heat of the Moment, shone in your eyes."_

Sam grumbled and switched off the radio, returning his gaze to the farmlands out his window, pouting.

'Something wrong?' Bobby asked.

'Oh, its nothing really, just a case of deja-vu versus extreme irony – Bobby, this world is _trying_ to torment me.'

Bobby forced a laugh, 'Yes, it would seem so, wouldn't it?' The question was rhetorical. 'Don't worry, things will work themselves out soon enough.'

Sam didn't reply. He couldn't see how things could possibly improve. After losing Dean, it seemed as if he had absolutely nothing left. A feeling of emptiness and insignificance washed through his body, and it was in this moment that Sam swore to himself that he would get Dean back from Hell – whatever it took.

His first thought was the crossroads demon. _Perhaps I could strike a deal?_

He sighed. _No, I killed the crossroads Demon months ago… I wonder how much I will come to regret that?_

********

They had only been in Kansas for twenty minutes – at the southern end, whereas Lawrence is further north – and already they were aware of the absence of people. The streets were deserted, there wasn't a single car running besides their own and a deathly chill pressed against their faces, almost like a warning.

As if matters couldn't get any worse for them, the Impala engine spluttered for a moment – and then died completely.

'_Damn it! _' Bobby exclaimed, slamming his fists down upon the dashboard in anger. Sam didn't say a word, and he felt as if he subconsciously knew something like this would happen.

Whilst Bobby attempted to start the engine again, Sam turned and surveyed their surroundings. There was nobody in sight, thankfully. 'Bobby, what-'

He sighed, 'It's no use, Sam. They know we're here – and as it would seem, they have us exactly where they wanted. We got careless, and now we're going to have to face the consequences.'

Knowing that their level of vulnerability would increase if they stayed within the confines of the Impala, Sam and Bobby pulled themselves out, glancing up and down the road.

After a sudden hunch, Sam quickly rounded to the back of the car and pulled open the Impala's trunk, hoping beyond hope that his hunch was wrong.

But of course, it wasn't. Bobby gasped.

The trunk was empty.

Dean's entire arsenal of weaponry had disappeared. Sam sighed, knowing what Bobby said was right. In times like this, they could always count on what Dean kept stashed beneath their car. But now, at the time they needed it most, there was not an ounce of firepower to be seen.

The two of them glanced around cautiously, paranoid that they were being watched. In that moment, they suddenly became two of the most vulnerable people on Earth.

Pulling out his cell phone, Sam cursed. 'Damn it, no reception.'

'It doesn't look like the Demons are too happy about us interrupting their plans,' Bobby assumed, 'Nor do I think that they're going to let us leave without a fight, either.'

'Kansas,' Sam laughed, 'There's no place like home.'

* * *

**Pun intended =P**

**Thanks for reading - Review, cheers.**


	3. Chapter Two

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Note – **_Here's the second chapter of my story, cheers =D_

**Chapter Two**

Sam and Bobby strode through the lonesome streets of Arkansas, heavily on their guard as they searched the neighbourhood houses thoroughly for any possible weaponry.

The smallest creak of a floorboard, or slightest scuttle of some small animal was all it took to send fear and adrenaline flowing through their veins at a phenomenal rate. It was in no sense an unusual situation for either of them, but the absence of any form of protection was unnerving.

A few bags of sulphur and four litres of holy water later and the fearful tension had eased slightly. After raiding a local store for the salt, and using Bobby's Christ key-chain to manipulate the water's value, the two of them finally had the basis for a little retaliation.

Sam relaxed for a moment, content. He knew it would be of very little help if they managed to find themselves confronted by Lilith, but at least now they were protected from any other unwanted visitors that may be unveiled in the darkness.

After a short discussion concerning the useless shell of a once-working car, Sam and Bobby decided to release the Impala's handbrake and push it somewhere safer.

After a quick deduction on the most secure place to hole up, they decided upon a small basement beneath one of the larger houses on the district.

With the Impala parked upon the footpath directly above them in front of the house, Sam and Bobby dragged their supplies down the staircase and spread salt across every possible entry – they weren't going to be taking any chances.

'Do you think they'll come?' He seemed relatively calm, but Bobby knew that inside, Sam was shaking with fear - and after what he'd been through, it's to be expected.

Bobby was also quite edgy, 'I don't know Sammy,' he replied, 'What troubles me most is that they didn't attack us when we first arrived in town. We were easy targets; it wouldn't have taken much effort to wipe us out.'

'Unless they want us to go to _them_,' Sam deduced, slowly working his head around the conclusion. 'Perhaps they're waiting for us,' he shrugged, 'You know, toying with us, while we play right into the fingers.'

'Perhaps.' Bobby whispered, sitting on the cemented surface and staring at the wall in front of him. After a moment Bobby frowned.

'Something up?'

Bobby shrugged, 'I just don't get the way these Demons minds work.'

Sam forced a laugh, 'Do any of us?'

'Well, the situation we're in is no mere hunt. This is a war, Sam, and we're much more than just a few steps behind the enemy. They're unpredictable – something we can't deal with, especially in a time like this.'

'And what exactly _is_ this time? To be honest, Bobby, I have no idea what's happening anymore – and I don't mean with the Demons. You're not helping this situation by keeping things from me, you know.'

'Get some rest, Sam. We're going to need our energy tomorrow, whether to fight off an army of vengeful Demons, or travel on foot to Lawrence. Either way, we will need all the strength we can muster. I'll wake you when it's your turn to keep watch.'

Sam didn't bother arguing. He had been fighting with himself to stay awake, and knew that he wouldn't be able to resist any longer. He doubted his ability to wake up when Bobby was done keeping watch, but lay down and closed his eyes anyway. It was barely two minutes before he'd fallen asleep; now completely and utterly unaware of anything that could sneak up on them in the night.

********

Sam would come to envy the man who's sleep remained untroubled, for as Bobby sat in his chair, cleaning the barrel of a pistol with a cocked sawed-off rifle beside him, staring ahead for any intruders, voices began to echo through Sam's mind. They tormented him, tearing through his brain with their shrill sound, until the wailing ceased and visions of his past began to flash before his eyes.

He could see the face of Azazel piercing his memory, the golden eyes and white smile torturing him. _'I have plans for you, Sam. For you and people like you.'_

'_Only one of you crazy kids is gonna make it out of here alive.'_

It all looked so real, picture perfect in every possible sense of the phrase. _'I'm looking for the best and brightest. You're tough, you're smart, and you're well trained. Sam, you're my favourite.'_

The terrible agony of repressed memories being pulled from his mind and resurrecting themselves in this terrible nightmare was excruciating, a pain beyond anything Sam could bear – but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

'_Dad told me something, before he died.' _Dean's face swam into view, tears leaking down his cheeks, _'He said that if I couldn't save you… I'd have to kill you, Sammy.'_

'_So what? Am I supposed to go dark side or something?'_

'_I don't know…' _The words of Dean faded into the distance.

Blinding flashes of light cut across his vision, and many different voices echoed through his mind at once, voices of the damned, before their deaths.

'_Hi, I'm Ava.'_

'_Sam… I saw you die. I had to warn you.'_

'_This is a competition. Only one of you crazy kids is going to make it out of here alive.'_

'_Screw you, buddy. I'm getting married in eight weeks, and I'm not part of anything, okay?'_

'_My name's Andy.'_

'_I can make people do things, anything I want. It was like a gift, you know?'_

'_I'm Jake.'_

'_I killed you! I cut clean through your spinal cord, man! You can't be here, you can't!'_

'_See that Ava girl was right. Once you give in to it, there's all sorts of new Jedi mind tricks you can learn.__'_

Sam, consciously aware of the flashes of memory streaking before his eyes, tried to call out to Bobby – to wake him up, pleading for him to save him from this nightmare. But he couldn't; he couldn't seem to make any sound at all.

Then Bobby's face came into clear view. _'There's a war coming, and you boys, you're smack in the middle of it.'_

'_In 1845, Samuel Colt made a special gun. They say this gun can kill anything.'_

He couldn't make sense of what he was seeing – it was as if a higher power was trying to tell him something, but it all moved much too fast.

'_Damn it! Bella stole the colt!'_

'_Her name's Lilith. She's the one that holds the contract.'_

'_I don't have to answer to puppy chow. Sick 'em, boys!'_

With a final blinding white light, the scene was thrown into total darkness, but through the shadows Sam could make out a feint sound, becoming louder by the second.

'_Bastards, no!'_

'_Help me somebody!'_

Growing louder.

'_Help me!'_

'_SAAAAAAAAMM!'_

'No! DEAN!'

Sam awoke with a start, short of breath and wincing from the lingering twinge of pain in his head as he sat up in his makeshift bed to see a familiar face leaning over him.

Bobby looked quite distressed, 'Sam?' Relief swept across his face, 'Thank God. You were having a fit, or something – what came over you?'

Sam strained his mind to remember what it was that he had dreamt. The face of every one of the 'chosen' children struck his mind, the memory of each and every one of their deaths haunting him – and he knew they would forever.

_They had just been regular people after all, undeserving of their fate._

Bobby scrutinised him closely, and Sam pulled himself up to stare into Bobby's eyes, who seemed to be fixing a conclusion in his mind.

'You had another vision, didn't you?'

'I don't know, Bobby… I mean, it wasn't like any other I've ever had.'

Bobby looked concerned, 'What happened?'

Sam gulped and took a deep breath before replying.

'I heard him.'

'Who?'

'Dean.'

Bobby stared, 'You're not kidding, are you?'

Sam shook his head, 'I heard him, Bobby; I heard him calling out to me.'

'But... Well, you know, It might not actually be-'

'Not be what?' Sam spat, 'Real? Bobby, when have my visions ever been wrong?'

'But you said yourself, it wasn't like any regular vision.'

Sam sighed, 'I know… But that last part, where I heard Dean… It felt much too real to be fake.'

Bobby said nothing.

Sam pulled himself to his feet, gazing at the staircase leading out of the basement, a new determination burning inside him. 'We're got to save him, Bobby. _Whatever_ it takes, we must get Dean out of there.'

Bobby nodded, 'Don't worry, we'll– Sam?'

Sam had dropped to his knees, clutching his temple and screaming in pain. His head felt as if it was about to split in two, a burning sensation overcoming his senses and the world before him dropped out of sight as an alternate view met his eyes.

It was in a familiar graveyard, shrouded in the darkness of night and the only light to be seen was the moonlight above. Tombstones dating further back than any living memory, engraved with ancient markings that Sam could not decipher littered the ground before him, and trees that once swayed in the wind sat burnt and deadened; their life drifting away with each passing breeze.

Right in the centre of this ancient cemetery, overshadowing the headstones with its ferocious height, stood a mausoleum of unspoken menace, a crypt withholding the most terrifying evil known to man.

For this chamber held no mere grave. No. Behind those gates, a pit of burning stakes and senseless destruction await any being to walk beyond them.

The Devils Gates.

And beneath its doors, a young girl stood - her eyes pearly white and her facial features implying an anxious heart.

She had been waiting for a long time.

The man was much older than the girl, but the look on his face portrayed a mind that was utterly terrified to be in her presence.

'Did you retrieve it?' The voice of that little girl echoed throughout the clearing, projected with an unnatural volume.

This was no ordinary girl.

To the casual observer, they would never suspect that the next figure to arrive was little more than a servant for the little girls bidding. But Sam, who was, of course, _not_ simply the casual observer, knew otherwise. In fact, by the light in her eyes, Sam recognised the little girl as Lilith – the Demon who had possessed Dean's crossroads contract before he'd bitten the dust.

The man nodded, and gestured behind him as he was joined by another two men, their eyes emptier than space itself, black under the light of the moon. They carried between them a large object, wrapped firmly in cloth. They set it at the feet of Lilith, who smiled menacingly as they backed off.

'And the Ancient Manuscripts,' she demanded, 'What have you found on those?'

The first of the Demons stepped forward reluctantly. 'We know where it is hidden,' he replied, 'It was very difficult – it's tracks were hidden very well. But we found it. As for retrieving it? No such luck. The house is thoroughly protected against us.'

This angered Lilith, but she replied quite casually, 'We are so close to achieving the Parcaex, and we cannot let our goals be hindered by such an avoidable hindrance. There _will_ be another way. Find it.' She looked down at the object in front of her, then back to the three Demons, 'Now. About the Winchester boy and the colt?'

'Good news on that.' The same demon stepped forward and pulled the gun from his jacket. 'We traced the colt back to an old friend of the Winchesters, Bella Talbot. She just happened to have struck a deal with the one who dwells at the crossroads, ten years ago. She died a week before we could reach her, but it was not very difficult to find where she had hidden the colt. These people are so predictable.'

'Speaking of predictable,' a second Demon stepped up, 'Sam Winchester, with the help of an unknown accomplice, has escaped from our grasp and taken off again. But we had kept track of him since, and he just happened to cross the border into Kansas no less than six hours ago. And again, he wasn't alone.

'Where are they now?'

'They have taken refuge in an old basement beneath Arkansas City. They haven't come into contact with our guys yet, but we're setting up our allies around the area. We can't take any chances with these guys.'

'No.'

The words of Lilith were cold and harsh. 'Leave them; let them come. I may have some use for them.'

'Use?' the Demon looked confused, 'What if they do not come at all?'

Lilith smirked, 'Oh they will. Not only do we hold the body of dear Dean Winchester,' she gestured towards the object before her, 'But I've had the honour and privilege of chatting to one of their most valuable companions.'

After acknowledging the puzzled looks etched upon each man's face before her, Lilith strode to the far end of the cemetery and beckoned them over.

Supported by chains attached to her wrists, pinned to the back of an abnormally large tombstone with her feet dangling two feet above the ground, was-

'Ruby,' Lilith announced. 'A bitch so infamous she needs no introduction. You've been a _very_ naughty girl, I must say. I mean, who ever heard of a demon rebelling against her own kind? You truly are unique in your own way – the amount of trouble you've caused be is indescribable.'

There was only sheer hatred etched into the lines on Ruby's face, and she glared down her nose at the small figure standing directly in front of her with a burning passion. 'I'm no Demon, bitch. I'm nothing like you. And you won't get away with what you-'

All it took was a flick of her wrist, and Ruby was rendered incapable of speaking. Lilith smiled sarcastically, 'I didn't ask you to speak.'

She turned back to the three Demons behind her, surveying each of their expressions closely before coming to a decision. Ruby continued to stare, listening with wide eyes at the next statement.

'Let Sam Winchester come. For our plan to succeed, we are going to need him. When at last we have him,' she smirked, 'it shouldn't be long before the Parcaex Ritual succeeds.'

********

'Ancient Manuscript?' Bobby inquired, frowning, 'Did they say what it was for?'

Sam rubbed his head, which was still throbbing painfully. 'Not specifically, no. But they're waiting for us to go to them, rather than attack us whilst on our guard.' He sighed, 'Lilith said that once they have _me_, they will be able to do it.'

'Do what?'

Sam hesitated, 'Perform the Parcaex ritual.'

Bobby said nothing at this, but sat and stared in Sam's general direction, clearly contemplating whether they should turn back from their path after hearing of this new ploy.

After a few moments, Bobby looked up. 'Weren't these visions supposed to stop when Azazel was killed?'

This was a question that puzzled Sam as well. 'I don't know, Bobby. I've got no idea what is happening or why this is happening to me again – But I am sure that, whatever it is, it's connected to Lilith somehow.'

Bobby nodded in agreement, 'Anything else?'

'Well, she confirmed out suspicions about the Demons having stolen Dean's corpse. They have Ruby, too. In the time since that phone-call and now, it seems that the Demons had found her, and she's hung on an old tombstone of some sort.'

'Well, considering the duration and lack of information _in_ that phone call, I'd say she was already captive when she made it.'

'There was a building, too' Sam continued, his head searing with sharp pain, 'Bobby, they're at the Devils Gates.'

'The Devils Gates?' Bobby looked concerned, 'But… the Gates are in Wyoming! It was on a hunt only last Tuesday evening that I specifically caught wind of a plan in Lawrence…'

Sam shrugged, 'Well I haven't a clue. But they did say something about the Manuscripts being in a place they couldn't enter. They said it was protected against them – Devils traps and the likes. I think their 'need' for us included going into a place that they could not.'

Bobby sneered, 'They can't honestly think that we would willingly play right into their hands, and _deliver_ them an item that somebody, clearly, did not want them to get their hands on. They truly are out of their minds,' Bobby leaned back against the stone wall with his head bowed down. 'Anything else?'

Sam closed his eyes and delved into his memory. Like regular dreams, the details were quite difficult to catch during the following wakeful moments, and it was a strain just to remember this specific piece of information. 'They said they needed the colt.'

Bobby sat up quickly, 'The colt? But what use could they possibly have for a _demon_-killing weapon? I mean, it's understandable to prevent us from using it on them by stealing it, but why would they need it now? Unless…' his voice trailed off for a moment.

Sam pressed for him to continue. 'Unless what?'

The next words he whispered were barely audible, and it was only by the movement of Bobby's mouth that Sam managed to catch what he said. 'They're going to open the Devils Gates.' He looked up, 'Sam, I think I know how we can save Dean.'

'What?' Sam was instantly alert, standing up and walking over to where Bobby sat, an anxious look etched into his face. 'How?'

Bobby sighed, 'If I'm right, then what the Demons are planning is both a blessing and a terrible curse for us. Those Manuscripts, if they are what I think they are, then they are of major importance with the Parcaex Ritual. I didn't know they were still around, I believed – as many other hunters did – that they had been destroyed centuries ago. But your Dad - he didn't believe it, of course. He was under the impression that the Manuscripts were still out there somewhere. He was searching for those scripts for years before his death, but he never gave me any clue as to how successful he was in his searches.'

'Do you think he found them?'

Bobby shrugged, 'I have no idea – But I wouldn't doubt John's ability for a second. If they _are_ still around, I think that there is a good possibility that he found them, knowing him. But after what the Demons said, I think we can be quite certain that John was right after all.'

Sam sat down beside Bobby. 'The Demons said that the documents were hidden within a house somewhere. Do you think,' he gulped, 'Do you think they meant our old house in Lawrence? Maybe that's why Lilith told them to let us continue. They must think that we'll collect the scripts for ourselves and then bring them out into the open, where they can take them from us by force.'

'Maybe.'

'Bobby,' Sam sighed, 'you haven't told me what the hell is going on around here, yet. How do you expect me to be able to help, if I'm being kept in the dark about all of this? What do the Manuscripts _do_? And how will they help us save Dean?'

'I'm sorry, Sam, for not telling you before. I had to be sure that I knew exactly what was happening before you found out – If I was wrong, it would not have been necessary to tell you what I'd been suspecting.'

Sam said nothing, but waited for Bobby to continue.

'The Manuscripts of Vanatuhi are an ancient myth among all hunters and demons alike. Vanatuhi was the Pagan God of the underworld, who, in Estonian mythology, once rules the depths of Hell. He controlled all the happenings down below, and there is a legend that says – during his reign over Hell – that Vanatuhi was banished from the underworld by its other inhabitants. But Vanatuhi, whose soul was fixed within Hell, couldn't survive in a world like our own, full of life, love and happiness; everything he despised. And so his body decayed, and all that he left behind was a Manuscript of his own.

'In short, it is said that anyone who holds this Manuscript would have total control over all Vanatuhi's former power – would have control over Hell itself.

'Your father believed that he found traces of its existence, and ever since that moment, right up until the time that he died, he had been searching for it. He believed that Azazel had some sort of connection with the scripts, which made him all the more desperate to hunt down the bastard and kill it.'

Sam frowned, 'But why did he never tell us-'

'Tell you?' Bobby interrupted, 'The fact that he _didn't_ tell you about them probably saved your lives, both you _and_ Dean. By that time there were many other things after those scripts – other _creatures_, who would have torn both you and your brother both to shreds if they thought that you knew something about them.'

'John never intended to use the scripts himself – he knew that he couldn't. Only a Demon could summon the forces needed to control them, and I doubt he would have used them even if he could, even in an attempt to do the world good. It would overcome him quite easily. No, John only wanted to keep them from the Demons, for he knew that if they fell into the wrong hands, the world would fall to its knees, and bow to those that controlled the power at hand.'

'But, you said you knew a way to save Dean!' Sam exclaimed, 'But if only a _Demon _can use it, then how…?'

'Sam, I know more about you than you realise. Dean told me anything that he thought could interfere with your well-being, and so he also told me about the day Yellow-Eyes came to you in a dream, the day you were stabbed by Jake.'

Sam remained silent.

Bobby continued, 'Correct me if I'm wrong, but Azazel took you back to that day twenty-four years ago when your mother was killed, and showed you exactly what happened. The Demon dropped some of his own blood into your mouth, and it was this that spurred your keening psychic abilities,' he watched for a moment as Sam acknowledged the truth in this statement before finishing: 'You have Demon blood in you.'

Sam was unsure whether this was such a great discovery – demonic abilities gained through such a sick process wasn't his idea of a good personal trait. He understood that he would be able to unleash the powers of the Manuscript, but was it safe? If he had Demon blood in him, then why wasn't he like the rest of them? Perhaps this would be all it took for him to uncontrollably turn to the dark side…

'Sam, _you _can control the Manuscripts. _You_ have the power to bring Dean back. Now, if what you saw in that dream of yours was true, then for the moment we're safe, and it sounds like we have a free ride to Lawrence.'

He pulled himself to his feat, brushing cement-dust from his pants. 'Pack your things, we're leaving.'

'Bobby,' Sam grabbed him by the arm, 'Come on, you haven't told me everything yet! What have the Manuscripts to do with the Parcaex Ritual? What will _happen_ when the Ritual is complete?'

Bobby stopped moving for a moment and considered Sam's question, not particularly wanting to reveal this particular fact just yet. But he knew that it would do no real good to wait much longer. He sighed, and gave in. 'Apocalypse. Consider that for a moment.'

'You mean like… The four horsemen kind of apocalypse?'

'Well, in general.'

Sam shrugged, 'Basically a Christian terminology for Judgement Day, or the end of the world.'

'Exactly.'

Sam was confused.

'The Parcaex Ritual is basically like any other Demon-summoning ritual,' Bobby began, 'The only major difference is that the Parcaex is the only ritual capable of summoning the most powerful and terrifying creature from hell that the world has ever known. It is an ancient evil; a vicious and vile creature that goes by many names. Lucifer is believed to be its actual name, though he is more widely known as Satan, or the Devil.' Bobby paused, 'I swear to you that, Sam, if he is unleashed, there will be no stopping him.'

Sam stood with his mouth agape, staring at Bobby, disbelieving. 'But… he's just a myth! I've never heard of such a creature _actually_ existing before!'

'Not many people have,' Bobby said sternly, 'But he is real, I assure you.'

'Did Dad know of him?'

'I doubt there was even a possibility that he didn't, but John never liked to concern himself with matters that he knew were much too big for him. He simply kept his mind focused on the task at hand, and up until his death, that task was always to find Azazel, and to look after you boys.'

Sam nodded. 'So… How are we getting to Lawrence without a car?'

Bobby grinned defiantly, 'No problem. Considering how Lilith is so keen to capture us, I'm sure they'll speed our journey _for_ us.'

'What do you-'

'Listen.'

Sam stood in silence, listening intently as he watched Bobby, who urged him to keep silent while they waited for whatever it was.

And then, at last, he heard it.

Outside the house, on the curb where they had pushed the Impala after its sudden breakdown, Sam and Bobby heard the deep rumble of an engine starting.

Sam continued to stare at Bobby, now with an amazed expression on his face. 'Bobby, either there's something you're not telling me, or that was just one major coincidence.'

Bobby laughed forcefully, 'Sam, after all these years, do you still believe in coincidences?'

'Then what just happened? How did you know that the car would start?'

But in the silence that followed, Sam knew the answer before Bobby told it to him, but that didn't make it any easier to take in.

'They're watching.'

* * *

**Thanks for reading**

**I hope you've enjoyed it so far =D**

_23 Chapters in total (not including Prologue/Epilogue)_

_I'll post them as soon as they've been re-written [original version was terrible =P]_

**Review, Cheers!**


	4. Chapter Three

**SUPERNATURAL  
**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Note – **Thanks for reading =D

Review; Tell me what you think about how I portrayed hell – I'm curious about what you think, as it's probably the most difficult thing I've had to do.

**Chapter Three**

He could feel them pulling.

Agony beyond anything he'd ever felt before struck Dean hard. The thick, solid chaining that held his limbs apart suddenly tightened and then, without warning, released their hold on him, disappearing up into the darkness.

But there was no freedom for Dean. Though the chains had been lifted, he was now supported solely by the meat hooks embedded in his skin and bone, and the weight of his entire body was far too large for his bone-structure to handle alone.

He felt every muscle in his body contract with horrific anticipation as the flesh was torn from his left shoulder, and his collarbone shattered beneath the retracting hook. The true extent of the pain he felt was indescribably excruciating.

Whoever saw eternal life; a life with no death as a blessing was sadly mistaken. For there would come a time in every man's eternity where they would wish for it all to end, for everything to stop and to simply pass the final phase of life, to rest in that peaceful bliss.

But when you can never die, you never do. No matter how much you want it. And so there was no consolation for Dean, however much he willed it to be possible. For in Hell, you are beyond death, beyond any means of life at all, and it would never stop. Dean wished for nothing more than to black out, to forget everything and leave it all behind, never to breathe again – he just wished for the pain to stop.

But his pleas simply echoed away into the darkness, and the hurt and torture ensued.

His attempts to resist the second meat hook were futile, for no matter how hard he pulled; he held no sway over his fate. His rib cage violently shattered into a thousand fragments and Dean wailed in anguish, tears rolling down his cheek and dripping onto his wounded shoulder.

He knew very little of Greek Mythology, but the pain of Achilles paled in comparison to the third meat hook ripping apart Dean's heel, tearing the tendon in two and utterly destroying his right ankle. He had never contemplated the actual consequences of his deal, and now that he was witnessing it first-hand, the regret was finally beginning to sink in, and the only consolation he had was that he was enduring this so that his little brother could live a full life.

The myths of hell spoke truth in many ways, except perhaps the burning pits of stakes and lava, and the little man in the red suit with horns and a pitchfork. But the torture and pain was there, perhaps even understated in some of the lore. Nonetheless, Dean was facing it head-on, forced to withstand the most infamous misery and anguish known to man.

'AARRGGH!'

'SAAAM, GET ME OUT OF HERE!'

The second meat hook in his left ankle almost took his entire foot with it, tearing the heel to shreds, and his legs suddenly dropped downwards, his body left suspended by a single hook in his right wrist.

But only for a moment.

In those few horrible seconds, Dean felt the last chain tear from his flesh and he fell – fast.

An icy breeze stabbed into him like jagged knives as he plumaged down, falling through the network of chains around him. He was in so much agony that Dean didn't even realise his lack of contact with the chains below him. It was as if he just fell right through them.

The volume of the crashing thunder rose with each passing second as he fell, the wind soaring past him, enhancing the pain in his limbs, and at that moment he knew that he was suffering the worst physical pain possibly imaginable.

On Earth, he would have been spared. His body would have shut down, or not recognise the pain because of the shock. But unfortunately, he was not on Earth, and he felt _every _ounce of pain.

And so he fell, for what seemed like hours on end, weeping at his pain and the cries for his brother never heard by another soul. Everything suddenly went black, he felt a sudden stop, and the thunder around him faded into nothing.

********

Dean picked himself up off the ground.

_Ground._

Shocked, Dean looked at his feet, firmly pressed against the tarred surface, and sighed with extreme relief. The pain had eased, though a terrible headache lingered and it was now that Dean realised that he was supposed to be wounded.

'Holy crap.'

There was nothing. No scars, no wound – in fact, besides his mangled clothing and rough windswept look, he looked completely fine. At the memory of that pain, Dean shuddered and felt an icy chill run up his spine; he was so glad to be rid of it. But he had no time to dwell on this, for he just realised where he was – and couldn't believe his eyes.

Moving to the pavement on the edge of a road in the familiar town of Lawrence, Dean looked upon the house he had once lived in, all those years ago when this had begun.

_Everything I've suffered, everything Sam has suffered – it all began here. In this house._

Tears streaked down Dean's face, and he knew in that moment that he was home again. This was where he belonged; right here, and he never wanted to leave again.

Dean did a three-sixty, surveying his surroundings, and his focus came to a young man fifty feet away.

_There's no way this can be hell,_ he thought, starting to move towards the man, and then an idea came to his mind; an impossible idea. _Am I out? Have I escaped from the pit?_

At second look, Dean realised that the man before him was armed with a baseball bat, and ruthlessly devouring what looks as if it were once a vehicle – long, black and pummeled – with such force that it sent vibrations tickling at his feet.

And then he realised. 'Hey!' Dean yelled, 'That's my _car!_'

He stood behind the guy with a fierce anger in his eyes, 'What the _hell_ are you doing to my car!'

But there was no reaction from the man.

'Oi!' He growled, 'Why are you-'

Dean stopped, his eyes wide and staring.

_No, no way._

'Sammy?'

It was, indeed. But Sam took no notice of him; streaks of salty tears scarring his face as he wielded the bat again.

Dean, who had moved around to get a clearer view, quickly jumped out of the way as Sam aimed another blow at the windscreen. Sam still paid no attention to what Dean was saying - in fact, he didn't even seem to be ableto _hear_ him.

Then something strange happened.

Flying shards of glass whipped past Sam as he battered the car, and one sliced across his cheek, splitting and dripping with blood. Dean gasped with unexpected pain and reached up to his own cheek. There wasn't any sign of damage, but the pain was there.

'Sam?' Dean insisted, wondering what the hell was happening, 'Sammy, stop!'

'Dean,' he mumbled, looking up at the clouds above, 'what's the point of life anymore? You've taken everything from me. It's your fault Jess died; and Dad too!'

Dean, who thought that Sam was finally acknowledging him, realised that Sam wasn't actually speaking to him. No, he was speaking to his memory, and his memory alone.

_If I'm not alive, then what am I doing here? This can't be real. It just _can't_. Sam couldn't be saying these things - he wouldn't… Would he? _

'You know, Dean,' Sam yelled again into the sky, 'I'm _glad_ you're gone. I'm _glad_ you're suffering. Suffer like you made this family suffer; like you made _me_ suffer. I hope you're having one hell of a time where you are!'

Dean couldn't take this. It wasn't Sam, it just _couldn't_ be. Taking a running jump, he dove at Sam, attempting to tackle him to the ground and knock him out of this state.

But it was in this moment, when he fell right through Sam's solid body and onto the cement, that he realised what was actually happening. He hadn't come back to life at all. He was just another spirit, doomed to walk the earth forever, watching his loved ones suffer and slowly die around him.

_Does that mean… Does that mean this is real? _The possibility of it made Dean sick. _No, I mean, there _has _to be another explanation!_

But this _couldn't_ be real. This just _wasn't _Sam. Was he looking at an alternate reality to the one he once knew? Or was he actually glimpsing the real world through the eyes of hell?

_And why am I feeling his pain?_

Sam collapsed onto the pavement, the bat clattering down beside him and rolling into the gutter. He bowed his head, letting the tears flow from his eyes, dripping from his chin. 'How could you do this, Dean?' He screamed, 'How could you just leave me to die? I have nothing left – nothing to live for; nothing to work towards. Only pain.'

Dean couldn't bear to see Sam like this. He wished nothing more than to be able to contact Sam, to have some form of communication with him, to tell him that he was sorry.

'But it's not all your fault,' Sam cried, 'If I hadn't been so careless with Jake, maybe everything would have been fine. If I'd just taken that final step. But I can't help that, and…' he sniffed, 'I just can't live alone like this.'

From a holster inside his jacket, Sam pulled out a glimmering silver pistol, and as tears continued to leak from his face, splashing onto the pavement, he clenched his eyes shut, and Dean knew what he was about to do.

'Sammy,' he whispered in the obscene hope that Sam would hear him, crouching down beside him, 'Sammy, don't.' he pleaded.

Placing the gun to his temple, Sam let out his last breathe as he pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped through his flesh and pierced his skull.

The blue sky above them suddenly turned to a rich red, and the earth around them reflected the sickening colour.

Dean screamed in agony, clutching his head and cradling it, rolling on the ground. The pain was utterly immense – ironically like something shooting through his skull.

_Brilliant_, he managed to think. _The one thing worse than killing yourself with a shot to the head, is taking the same shot, feeling the pain and _not_ dying – and of course it happened to me._

Dean pulled himself to his knees, opening his eyes to look at Sam in anguish. The blood of his brother spread across the pavement, the body lying limp and broken, drowning in it's own pool of red.

He couldn't bear to watch his brother die, and knowing that he couldn't have stopped it made it all the worse. No matter if it was real or not, this was far too visual for Dean. He didn't know how long he sat there, mourning for his brother – but he couldn't stop; it was overwhelming. The pain in his head continued, but he didn't care. The emotional pain was much worse.

He sat there, unmoving – well, that was until he saw the five burly men making their way towards him. 'Hey!' he yelled, forgetting his situation and exactly how pointless it was to speak out, 'Hey YOU! Yeah, I'm talking to you!'

Of course, they didn't hear him, and simply kept walking, stepping over the body of Sam Winchester as if it were perfectly normal. Dean looked suspiciously at the long black object two of them carried between them, taking it up towards the house.

Dean left his brother's side, and though his legs felt as if they would collapse beneath him at any second, he followed closely at the men's heels.

The five men came to an abrupt halt, and Dean almost walked into the back of them – in theory – as the house door suddenly opened and Bobby singer emerged from behind them.

_What the hell?_ Dean thought. This was probably the last thing he had expected.

'What the hell?' Bobby questioned, looking down at the men, 'What are you doing here?'

'Get away from the house, old man.'

But of course, Bobby didn't move a muscle – except to lift his arm and point towards the black object they held in between them. 'What is that?'

'None of your business,' One of the men spat, 'now get out of our way, or we will have to hurt you.'

Oh yeah?' Bobby's lips twitched into something like a smirk, but in the next instant it was gone. 'I'd like you see you try that.'

The burly man moved forward two paces, 'Don't try to be tough, senior.'

Bobby sneered, 'Senior?'

'Don't worry, we'll arrange for you to be shipped back to the old folks home – unless of course you'd rather your ass in the pavement.' The man grinned, 'Your choice.'

Giving no heed to this, Bobby quickly scanned the background for anything suspicious. It was in this moment that he spotted Sam's body, soaked in blood and beginning the slow process into decay down in the gutter.

Bobby's eyes shot wide open in horror. 'You… you killed-?'

The five men simultaneously looked around and saw what Bobby was staring at, who took the sudden distraction to pull a pistol from his jacket and cock it. Five heads instantly whipped around at the sound.

'Why?' They were the only words that Bobby could manage to whisper.

'Why what?' The men seemed unnaturally calm whilst staring down the barrel of Bobby's pistol, two of them failed at suppressing grins. 'We didn't kill him.'

Bobby scowled, 'What are you grinning at?'

The same question was running through Dean's mind. Bobby clearly seemed to have the upper hand – if you don't think that he could take all of them at once, clearly you've never seen Bobby angry.

But what Dean could now see that Bobby couldn't were two shadows slowly emerging from the doorway.

_And they had weapons._

Hence the grinning.

Bobby!' He knew that any contact attempt was futile, but it burst out purely on natural instinct, 'Look out behind you!'

In just a few short instants, one of the men had pulled out a knife and then pounced onto Bobby from behind, holding it to his throat. Bobby struggled for a moment before attempting to disarm the man behind him, but the second figure revealed a crow bar and swung it violently into Bobby's shins. Dean not only heard the sickening crack of broken bones and his friend's screech of pain, but also collapsed into the turf beneath him as he felt the excruciating pain in his own legs.

But he soon realised, again, that it hadn't left a mark. No bones had been broken; he simply felt the pain. But there was nothing simple about the pain. It was agony. Terrible, unbearable, intolerable agony.

Dean looked up to see Bobby struggle, attempting to limp for a moment before slumping to the floor and moaning.

'No! Not you too! Come on,' Dean literally pulled himself across the ground closer to the body. 'Don't do this to me, Bobby!'

After a moment of satisfaction with their work, two of the men took Bobby's feet in their hands and dragged his body up and through the house. Another man pocketed the gun and grinned at the wailing from Bobby as they tortured his broken shins.

Dragging him up the stairs, they had not an ounce of consideration for Bobby; they simply seemed to enjoy torturing him. Dean knew that if Bobby weren't careful, he'd wind up with a broken neck as well.

_This can't be real_, Dean thought, wincing at the slight head-pains. _But if it is… Are they demons?_

Dean, who could walk perfectly fine, followed closely at the backs of the five men as they dragged Bobby's body up the stairs, across the wooden floorboards and into one of the bedrooms.

Dean winced twice during this process as his back prickled with sudden pain.

_Splinters,_ he deduced.

_And where's the pain in my shin gone? And my cheek? It shouldn't have disappeared that quickly._

He frowned. Looking himself up and down, he realised that he simply felt the pain, but it didn't last as long as Bobby's would due to the relieving fact that he wasn't physically affected at all. Which also raised the question of _how_ he was feeling the pain in the first place.

_Probably just another example of Hells' brilliant hospitality, _he sneered._ Spacious, too._

Dean followed the men into the bedroom, and one of them shut the door – conveniently having left time for Dean to enter the room before doing so.

It only took a few seconds and two small glances around the room to make him feel nauseous and almost pass out with shock.

The men dragged Bobby into a corner and lay him there against the wall, ignoring his continuous moans and pleadings. They dumped the long black object beside Bobby. It was now that Dean realised that it was a bag. Whatever it contained he bet wouldn't be good news for Bobby.

…Or the other three people tied up across the length of the wall _behind_ Bobby, blindfolded too.

Dean knew that nobody could see him, so he ran over and crouched beside the victim closest to him. He recognised her without difficulty – a woman of at least forty, but her former toughness had long escaped her. It was as if Ellen Harvelle was sitting patiently, just waiting for the end to come. Her entire body was marked with bruises as if she'd been battered repeatedly with something metallic. It was a horrific sight.

Moving across, Ellen had her back leaning against another female. This one had dark-skin and long black curls – a girl that Dean once knew, a long time ago.

'No _way_.' But a closer look confirmed it. Yes way.

_Cassie._

A tear fell from his close eyelids as Dean bowed his head. The last time he'd seen Cassie Robinson was almost two years ago, during a job in Missouri involving a violent killer truck. It was a strange sight, to come back into the real world so unexpectedly and come face-to-face with the one girl he'd ever truly loved.

Dean knew who the final person was the second he saw the thin blonde hair dangling around her shoulders. She, to whom Bobby was now being tied, had last come into contact with him whilst being assaulted by a sick demon possessing his brother. Jo Harvelle sat quietly, her head bowed and her lips whispering something that Dean could not hear. It seemed as if she was performing a ritual of some sort; just without any of the objects needed.

It was then that Dean realised that she was saying a prayer.

On the other side of Bobby, Dean took proper notice of the long black object sitting on the floor, and suddenly realised what it was a bag _for_.

A _body _bag.

But whatever – or whoever – was inside certainly was not dead, for he could see it moving; squirming as if insufficiently searching for a way out.

The men unveiled the cover of the bag, and as they pulled the fifth captive out and pushed her against the wall, Dean recognised the fearful face.

Sarah-Blake - the woman who Sam had fallen for all those months ago whilst investigating a murderous portrait, whom Dean specifically remembered asking Sam to marry at one point - was thrown face-first onto the floor with her hands tied behind her back, and then pushed into a corner where they strapped her to a chair, sick grins on their faces.

He didn't care if it was real or not; the sorrow he felt for all the people he'd ever loved was extraordinarily deep, and just the sight of their pain no matter if it was truly them was utterly heart-wrenching.

Taking a second chair, the captors heaved Cassie into it, pushing her into a second corner and began focusing their attention on her.

The men, who scarily seemed to know exactly what they were doing, sedated her through a syringe to the forearm, then untied her and lay her on the table perched in the center of the room.

Dean felt numbness within his skin, which he suspected was part of his oh-so-brilliant ability to take loved ones pain – and not be actually sedated in the process of course.

One of the men pulled out a long, glistening silver blade – another unveiling a 45' hand-pistol fitted with a silencer.

_What the…?_

'Oh, hell no.' Dean suddenly realised what they were about to do. 'Come on, aren't I in enough pain, already?'

One of the men laughed.

Dean looked around, suspiciously searching for their source of amusement.

'You can hear me?'

The man turned to stare directly at Dean, not speaking, just smiling menacingly. He then pulled the knife close to Cassie's chest and slashed a wide, gaping wound in her stomach.

Dean winced in preparation and anticipation of the pain – but it didn't come. The men just continued to smile, and he slashed again across Cassie's chest. But she didn't feel a thing; she was completely out of it.

Dean slowly moved into clearer view of what they were doing. Coordinated inflictions across her bare stomach, deeper each time, revealing something of a symbol, and whatever it meant Dean bet it wasn't pretty.

_Why aren't I feeling her pain? Wasn't I supposed to? Is it only Sam and Bobby that I'm "connected" to?_

But, as always, the answer simply came to him. Another syringe, another stab, another drug injection and suddenly Dean realised what they were now doing.

They were waking her up.

First the sedative, and now a counter-drug to reawaken her.

_Oh, just great._

Cassie's eyes shot open in terror, screaming at the top of her lungs, wailing in agony as blood oozed from her wounds and dripped off the table, sinking through the floorboards.

Dean collapsed where he stood, clutching his stomach and gasping for air on the ground, hyperventilating at this sudden shockwave of pain, shooting across his stomach. But it wasn't going to get any easier.

The second man approached the table, cocking his pistol and holding it against her legs.

'You sick monster,' Dean groaned, 'You take enjoyment out of this?'

He ignored his statement, but Dean was sure that he saw a flicker of satisfaction upon the man's face.

'Please, no!' Cassie begged, 'Leave me alone! Don't do this,' she whimpered.

Sobbing, Dean could only watch as the trigger was pulled and tears rolled down Cassie cheeks, her wails of pain powerless to save her as the bullet wedged itself in her shin.

Dean cried out in shock as – for the second time in ten minutes – he felt the pain of a bullet wedge itself into his bone, only without the bullet. There was no drowning of the pain due to shock, or nearby morphine to absorb it. No, he just sat there, moaning in agony and wishing that he was dead – that he was really, truly dead – and not spending an eternity of suffering within this hole.

What hurt much more than the mentally physical pain throbbing in his body, was watching his loved ones suffer, and knowing exactly the pain they were feeling.

That is the true horror of hell.

Crying out for help, he knew that nobody could hear him. Nobody ever would, and he just couldn't take it anymore – not that he had a choice.

Picking himself up off the ground, he ran to the door, Cassie's screams echoing through his mind, piercing his eardrums with chronic pain as he attempted to pull at the handle.

But he just couldn't do it. His hand slipped right through it. But Dean being Dean, he always had an intellectually brilliant plan devised to back it up.

Yeah, right.

Taking a run-up, he threw himself from the ground at the wall. The feeling of movement through something inanimate was cold and icy, like passing through dimensions themselves, and he felt nauseous for that split second of a moment.

As he had hoped, Dean fell right through the wall, landing on the rough floorboards beyond – and looking up again.

'Damn it.'

Pouting, Dean picked himself up off the floor and confirmed that he'd landed back in the same room. In a sudden burst of anger, he beat the floor with his fist – the one place he could physically touch.

His mind was overcome with the pain of watching his friends and family suffer – to literally feel their pain as they slowly died before his eyes. Anger overcame his senses, and no matter how much it pained his knuckles; no matter how many times he felt his fingers break in his mind, he just continued pounding the wooden floorboard.

The sudden deepened cries indicated that Cassie had now been taken off the chopping block – only now she'd been replaced by what sounded like Ellen. Dean didn't dare look up, didn't dare to see what became of her. But he knew that she was in terrible agony, both by the intense wailing and the pain that shot through his veins to mimic it.

After a strong surge of pain, Dean continued to lash out at the floor, again and again. He hit harder and faster increasingly, wishing that he could just block out the pain, get out of that dreaded room and away from his family's suffering. After a loud snap, Dean opened his eyes, looking down and realising what he'd just done.

_He'd put a crack in the floor._

And instantly his brain began to function properly again at this small glimmer of hope. He was upstairs in what was once his parent's bedroom, only a makeshift surgery table had replaced the white bedspread. The floor, being the only thing that his lifeless form could physically come into contact with, then…

_It's worth a shot, _he thought to himself._ Here we go, Dean._

Focusing his anger and rage again, he allowed himself to become immersed in the screams echoing from behind him, filling his lungs with hate and despise as he swung at the floor, hitting it with tremendous force, slowly breaking through the layers of wood that kept him sealed within this hell-hole.

And, to his thrill, the floor began to fall inwards, a small gap protruding through the floors, and with a final kick a small section collapsed. Dean allowed himself to fall with the momentum, crashing through the ceiling of the first floor at his old home and once again, his mind went blank.

He didn't feel himself hit the floor.

********

By the time the sun had risen Sam and Bobby were already halfway through Kansas, roaring down the Interstate 35 at a hundred and twenty miles per hour, taking full advantage of the absence of cars.

Their logic was simple: No cars means no people. No people means no cops. And when there are no cops…

Boys, start your engines.

At their speed, they would reach Kansas within four hours, but since Bobby had been at the wheel since Arkansas, the two of them agreed to switch positions soon. Lawrence lay northeast of Arkansas, and only forty miles from Kansas City, of which, oddly, only half was actually _in_ the Kansas state – It sat on the border between Kansas and Missouri.

Sam, in the passenger seat, sat reading through his father's old journal again – another item the car hadn't been stripped of – hoping to find some hint of the Manuscripts in all of John's works.

Of course, he found nothing, but he _did_ notice something else that he had never understood before now.

It was a newspaper article, dated ten years back and headlined - "Talbot Fortune Inherited".

Curious, Sam began reading the article:

_On the 26__th__ of February earlier this year, Millionaires Albert and Nancy Talbot lost their lives in a horrific accident at Highway 30. Their car was travelling down East-Pacific road, ten miles from the nearest town, when they lost control and left the road. The couple died instantly, a large fire engulfing both their bodies…_

Sam skipped forward a few paragraphs.

_…The Police released the coroner's report two weeks later, concluding that the brakes had been cut, but no further investigation has been made, as the Police have no leads on who might have sabotaged the vehicle…_

_…The rich couple left no will, and so all their possessions were passed on to their only daughter, Abby Talbot, who inherited their vast fortune at the young age of Fourteen. The media swarmed over this story, and theories erupted everywhere about how the couple really died…_

Sam looked up. It had been there, right in front of their noses the entire time. The history of Bela had lain inside their dad's journal, but they had never taken any proper notice of it. Bela was killed only a few weeks ago after giving them the information abut Lilith. She had struck a deal with the crossroads demon, exactly as Dean had done, and was given ten years to live in return for the Demon to kill her parents, who had sexually abused her as a child.

In the months before her death, Bela stole the colt from him and Dean, selling it to Lilith in exchange for the deal to be cancelled, but less than a week before she was due to expire, the contract was changed, and Lilith told her that she would have to kill _him_ to stay alive. Only minutes before she died, they had led her into a trap, making her believe that he was in an apartment in New Harmony.

It was her dying breaths that had given them the information they needed to save Dean from his deal, but in the end it just wasn't enough, and Dean followed Bela into the pit.

Though she had caused them so much trouble, Sam couldn't help but feel minutely sorry for her. She didn't deserve what had come to her, no matter what she had done. He remembered the last words that Dean had spoken to her with barely a minute to go until her time ran out. '_See you in Hell.'_

Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Sam wondered what would happen if Dean actually met Bela in that horrible place. He wasn't sure whether it would the circumstance would be good or bad, and his last thought before he drifted into an uneasy sleep was of the times to come, where everything could depend on him to save not only his brother, but the entire world.

********

'Dean.'

At first Dean took no notice of the faint echo invading his mind, ignoring the interruption on his unconscious bliss. The blackness was peaceful – almost dreamlike, but

from what he'd already experienced, he knew that sleep wasn't something so easy to come by in a place like this.

'Dean,' the voice called again, heavily accented and anxious, 'Come on, Dean, wake up.'

Dean returned to reality, but kept his eyes shut; the pain burning the rim of his skull becoming apparent once more. Groaning, he forced himself to open his eyes, glimpsing a familiar person standing over him. The figure had long, thin brown hair, bright green eyes and a strong British accent that Dean would have recognised anywhere – figuratively speaking, for he only realised who the person actually was once his eyes had adjusted to the light.

'Bela?'

She grinned, 'Abby, actually.'

'Oh god, I must be dreaming.'

'First of all,' she said, 'There is no God where we are. And secondly: I say good luck to you with that dream thing – many of the souls down here haven't slept for decades; even centuries.'

Dean looked up at her, both exceptionally glad that he was actually able to actually communicate with somebody and withholding his rage upon the woman who had stolen his only chance of saving himself and thus dooming him to an eternity in here.

Looking around, he didn't recognise any of his surroundings. He rubbed his forehead and frowned, 'We're not in Kansas anymore?'

'It's good to see you too, Dean.'

'Where are we?'

Bela looked down at him in amusement, 'What, no hug?'

Dean moaned as he pulled himself off the ground and stood next to her. Unlike what he remembered, Bela was a complete mess. She looked oddly vagrant - dirty, bruised, didn't smell as if she'd showered in years and her hair stuck up all over the place.

'Where are we?' Dean repeated, 'and how did I get here from Kansas?'

'If I tell you that, what are you going to give me in return?'

'Give – 'Dean scowled, 'I swear, if you don't tell me-'

'Careful Dean, or you're going to break something.'

'What do you want?' he spat. 'Always the same, aren't you?'

Bela forced a laugh. 'And to you too – you're always the womaniser.'

'You want my foot down your throat?'

'Relax, Dean, I'm kidding. If you really need to know, we're in New Harmony, Indiana.'

'And how…?'

Bela shrugged, 'I don't know. I just found you lying on the ground.'

'Brilliant,' Dean growled. 'What the _hell_ is happening here?'

'Exactly what you just said. _Hell _is happening here.' She sighed, 'Trust me, you haven't seen anything yet. Very soon you'll be getting a full spoonful of what Hell can really do.'

Dean gulped, 'I watched Sam die.'

'Dean, listen to me,' Bela demanded. 'This is not the real world. This is _nothing_ like it. Whatever you saw, it isn't real, just something you've been made to believe. Trust me, I've seen many things of my own this past week; unimaginable things.'

Dean glared at her. 'You've never loved anybody in your entire life – you've always been a simple, selfish bitch. I doubt anything you saw was even _close_ to what I've been through.'

Bela looked down at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes. 'You have no idea what terrors this place truly holds, Dean,' she whispered. 'You don't need to see loved ones die for them to torture you. They have other ways.'

Dean said nothing, just continued to glower at her with that piercing stare. In the past twenty-four hours he had suffered the worst pains anybody could possibly bear, and it was eating him up inside; he felt true fear swelling inside him as he thought about it.

'Dean, stop being such a wuss.'

In his anger, Dean pushed her aside and strode forward a few paces, 'A wuss, huh?' he stopped in his tracks, turning to look at her, 'Tell me, what have you been through that could _possibly _be worse than what _I_ have?'

Bela refused to answer, shaking her head at his insolence. 'Shut up Dean. You know, I could just leave you here to be tortured for the rest of eternity, or you could stop trying to prove yourself better than me and just listen.'

He stopped, and slowly walked back to her, sighing. Calming himself down, he thought of something. 'Bela?'

'Hmm?'

'Have you seen anybody else while you've been here?'

Bela suddenly became interested in her shoes again. 'Yes,' she whispered, 'I've seen many. There are souls that have been trapped down here for centuries, wandering the streets at night.'

'Wandering?'

Bela nodded, 'Dean, if they find you – well lets just say that you haven't seen it all yet.'

'What-?'

'Come,' she beckoned, interrupting him, 'We should find somewhere to stay; it's not safe here, ever. The population of Hell is made up of mostly the worst of the worst kinds of people. Suicidal maniacs, vicious murderers – that sort. Their souls are not easily put to rest.'

Dean nodded slowly, understanding. 'One more thing,' he gulped, wondering whether to raise the question. In the end he decided it was worth a shot. 'Have you seen my father?'

Bela looked around nervously and then pulled her face right up to his. 'You must learn that it is not safe to speak of his name down here,' she insisted.

Dean was puzzled. 'Why?'

'There are many souls down here that despise the name of John Winchester.'

Dean still didn't understand, and Bela groaned. 'Dean, you know what your father did for a living. He sent hundreds, maybe _thousands_ of creatures to this dreaded place in his lifetime – and until you now, he's the only major hunter ever to end up down here. I bet they would love to get their hands on either of you, if they were given that opportunity.'

This he understood. It made sense, but still didn't answer his original question. He decided to leave it for now. 'What about that place?' he asked, 'the place I was held before I came down here. What was that?'

She grabbed his arm nervously and began striding away, 'Honestly, I don't know. But there are many things for you; for us to learn about Hell, and from here it will only get worse.'

'What could be worse than what I've already been thorough, Bela?' He growled, pulling his arm free and standing his ground defiantly. 'I've had my bones plucked out of me by some freak-job set of hooks, seen old friends tortured right in front of me and screaming their lungs out, my own brother blowing himself away only inches from me – and you think there's worse?'

The look in her eyes was neutral, unchanging; she just stood and looked directly into his, and whispered softly, 'You will see, Dean.'

_'You will see.'_**Thanks for reading - Hope you enjoyed =D**

* * *

**I'll post another after reviews =P**


	5. Chapter Four

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RUTUAL**

**Note – **Thanks for reading, here's the fourth chapter. Read, _Review_ and Enjoy ^_^

**Chapter Four**

Abandoning the car, Sam and Bobby set out on foot two blocks from the house, taking with them their duffel bag filled with sulphur and many bottles of Holy water – Bobby had been busy while Sam was driving. They had enough of the sacred liquid to fight off an army.

They just wished that it would enough to defend them against Lilith.

_You can't have everything in life_, Sam thought miserably.

The night was cold, the grass beneath their feet wet with dew and their breath exhaled in wisps of icy vapour, silhouetted against the moon as they moved ever closer to their destination.

'Do you think we'll run into them at the house?' Sam asked, deciding to walk down on the road in preference the grass – his shoes were soaked from the watery turf.

'I don't know, Sammy,' Bobby said. 'We'll just have to wait and see.'

Stopping at the corner of the street and glancing around suspiciously, Sam looked upon an old and familiar sight. 'I don't think we'll have to wait very long.'

Keeping their eyes peeled in alert, the two of them approached the house slowly and with great care, constantly looking over their shoulder and expecting an ambush with each passing second.

'We're probably just being paranoid, aren't we, Bobby?'

Bobby turned to him. 'No, this isn't paranoia. It's precaution.'

'How do we know that Dad ever actually _found_ the Manuscripts? And if he _did_, we don't _know_ that he's hidden them in our old home, especially since it's the one place we'd all sworn never to go back to if we could help it. We lost too much behind those walls.'

Bobby sighed sympathetically. 'Knowing your father, he would never have rested until he'd found those Scripts. And I have good reason to think that he left them in that house.'

'And what's that?'

'Well, do you remember that job you and your brother were working back here when you were searching for John?'

'Yeah, of course,' Sam answered, 'I could never forget it. That was the first time that I'd ever properly seen my mother - and not in a photograph – even if she was just a spirit. She saved Dean and I from a homicidal poltergeist.'

'And you were helped by a psychic that John used to be in contact with?'

Sam frowned. 'Yeah, why?'

'Well, after I'd heard about this, I went back searching for the psychic myself, while I was also looking for your father. This was three months later, though.

'I found her. She told me all about your mission, and also remembered that not long after you'd left town, your father came to see her. She told him all about what you boys had done, and he began asking odd questions about the house.'

'Questions?'

'Yes, Sammy, questions. Like how long she expected the house to remain uninhabited for after the owners moved out – she had prophesised their departure soon after the events of that night. Apparently there's a local legend around here now that the house is haunted. Stories seemed to have spread about what happened to that family, and about the night it burned down twenty-six years ago.

'But she couldn't predict the exact time, so John assumed for himself that nobody would dare to live there for another few years at the very least.

'I believe John had hidden the Manuscripts inside the house and performed a number of rituals to keep any demons or thieves from stumbling on them. I think he wanted to make sure that the job was done before he came looking for you boys, so that he wouldn't be distracted from his work.'

Sam nodded, but didn't make any comments.

_Was that really the reason why he had refused to be found? Did he come back once he'd found the Manuscripts? Did he even find them?_

They were right outside the house now, and a terrible sense of foreboding washed over Sam as he and Bobby approached the front door.

They didn't stop to consider the possibility of someone being home, for they hadn't seen a single person since they had crossed the state border, and they doubted that the streets were about to simply flood with people again. The question of what had happened to them all had not lingered for very long – they had seen stranger things in their lifetime.

Turning the handle, Bobby was surprised to see the door swing right open.

Sam looked at it curiously, 'Whoever was in here last doesn't seem to have bothered to lock-up before they'd all spontaneously and simultaneously decided to disappear off the face of the earth.'

'Apparently.'

They crossed the threshold into the house, closing the door behind them and quickly setting off to search the downstairs bedrooms and make sure that they were alone.

'Sam,' Bobby called to him from across the hall, 'does this house have some kind of basement, or an area you think John would have found suitable to store the Manuscripts?'

Sam appeared from his right. 'Well, I found nothing down my end. Unless somebodies defying this lack of population somehow – we're in the clear.'

'And the basement?'

'Never had one.'

Bobby frowned. 'There's got to be-'

'Wait,' Sam began slowly, 'There's no basement, but there _is_ an attic upstairs, if I remember right.'

Without another word, the two of them climbed the staircase onto the second level, silently signalling to one another and moving off to perform another search. Once they had concluded that the house was empty of life – except for them, of course – they moved into the largest bedroom.

Sam stopped for a moment and drew in a deep breath – he still wasn't entirely content with being inside the house that had caused him so much pain in the past.

Bobby walked forwards and pulled down the retractable staircase, easing it down as its structure unfolded to the floor.

After glancing up into the darkness of the attic, Sam stepped up two stairs and crouched down, squinting at a few miniscule symbols etched into the wooden banister. It seemed that this was indeed where his father had stored the Ancient Manuscripts that he'd kept a secret for all this time.

Cautiously, Sam ascended the staircase into the attic, becoming immersed in the darkness and blindly fumbling for a light.

'Bobby, come help me, would you?'

'Uh, Sam?'

'Yeah?'

'Come and have a look at this.'

Abandoning his attempts to find a light switch, Sam moved back towards the faint light below. He stopped at the top of the staircase and looked down to see Bobby still at the bottom, his hand stretched out in front of him.

'What-'

'I can't get through, Sammy.'

'Oh.'

'For some reason you can, but I can't. It's like an invisible brick wall surrounding the staircase – your father must have placed a ritual of some sort to keep common thieves from entering, too.

Sam frowned, and descended again to look more closely at the symbols scratched into the wood. It took him a few moments, but he sighed after realising what it meant.

'What?'

'Bobby, this is a Hestian symbol.'

'Oh, right,' Bobby rolled his eyes. 'Of course John would have used them. They're in all kinds of warding rituals; it seems to have worked, huh?'

Sam nodded, 'It comes from Hestia, the Pagan Goddess of Hearth and Home. Basically it means that somebody whom isn't related by blood to the one that performed the ritual cannot pass that point.'

'So – what? I'm supposed to just sit here and _wait_ for you?'

'I won't be long, Bobby.'

He walked back into the attic before Bobby could retaliate. After a minute of further fumbling, he found the switch at last and a weak light illuminated the room from a lamp hanging in the rafters.

The entire space was overcrowded with miscellaneous and useless items – it was just one large dumping ground for belongings previous families didn't want, he guessed.

Old boxes, crates and piles of old magazines littered the ground, rising in stacks to the ceiling. Papers were strewn untidily across the floor-space and the room smelled nauseatingly like dead rat.

_Well, it's as good a place as any_, Sam thought, attempting to cover his nose to block out the sickening smell as he kept on walking in search for the Ancient Manuscripts.

He didn't have to look for long.

At the far end of the attic, set right in the centre of a Devils trap with a diameter of no less than three metres lay a small, black box. Sam approached it cautiously, eyeing the Devils Trap in front of him.

_If I have the power to use the Manuscripts_, he thought, edging closer to the trap, _that mean's I have demon blood in my veins. If I have demon blood… will this Devil Trap apply to me, too?_ He hesitated, moving his foot ever closer. _Should I try? I mean, it's not as if Bobby can take my place, and we need this…_

He gulped, took a deep breath and stepped forward one step, placing his left foot into the trap. Then another question arose in his mind.

_Would I be able to draw back now, since I'm only _halfway_ into the circle? If I _were_ a Demon, what would happen?_

Either way, he didn't think it mattered. He had to get that box.

Sam stepped forward into the circle so that his entire body was now within it, and sincerely hoped that he would be able to get back out again. The prospect of it was disturbing him, and he felt slightly claustrophobic, even with no conclusive means of _being_ so.

_What if a demon had claustrophobia?_ He thought suddenly. _Would they be afraid of a Devils Trap? If the trap were out in the open, would they feel like they were in an enclosed space, since they can't actually see the walls?_

Confusing himself, Sam reached back the way he had come to see _if_ he was actually concealed.

And sighed with relief. He was in the clear.

Remembering that Bobby was waiting for him back downstairs, Sam hurried forward towards the black box, noticing Ansazi symbols etched into the dark metal, a well known protection against supernatural beings.

Looking around the room, Sam saw many faint clues of rituals and defensive symbols. Impressed, he knew that even Lilith couldn't penetrate these walls.

It seemed that Bobby had been right – the Manuscripts _did_ exist.

'I don't believe this,' Sam whispered to himself, kneeling down and unbuckling the box's latches, lifting the lid to see what it held.

Not entirely convinced at whether what he heard was a figment of his imagination or not, Sam thought that when he had lifted the lid of the black box a feint, ghostly wail had escaped from within.

Feeling unsafe and quite edgy up there all alone, Sam got barely more than a glimpse of the Manuscripts lying inside the box before closing the lid and picking it up. It was incredibly heavy for its size, but he managed to get a decent grip upon it and carry it across the attic surface towards the staircase.

Bobby sat leaning against the bedroom wall, looking impatient and annoyed.

'What took you?' he grumbled.

Sam didn't answer, as the two of them became immediately interested in the black box that he lay on the table in front of them. Sam opened the box and took his first proper look at the Manuscripts of Vanatuhi, inside.

Reaching in, he pulled out a few fragile sheets of parchment that were clearly ancient. The inscriptions written upon the manuscript were of a language Sam had never heard before.

'How are we supposed to read this thing?' Bobby asked, looking down at the odd symbols written on the page and looking even more confused that Sam was.

They hadn't expected something like this. 'Well,' Sam said, 'It was written thousands of years ago by the Estonian God Vanatuhi, so…'

'So… what?'

Sam grinned, 'We're going to have to start researching ancient Estonian languages.'

Bobby groaned, 'Brilliant. But that's only if we manage to get out of this place alive first, before Lilith and her army of Demons get their hands on us.'

'Well aren't you just a glass half full?' Sam scowled sarcastically, 'Have you got a plan?'

'Er… something like that.' He replied.

Sam looked through the Manuscripts again, a wondrous gaze in his eyes. 'It's strange, isn't it?' he whispered. 'How something so powerful can seem so utterly insignificant to ones eye. Someone looking down on us right now would never suspect that we held in our hands the most powerful weapon in the world.'

Bobby moved to the window, pulling the curtains aside and peering down onto the streets. 'That depends on who's watching.'

Sam nodded. 'Anything?'

He shook his head, 'Not that I can see, there-' he suddenly stopped.

'What is it?'

He turned to Sam, beckoning him over. 'Take a look for yourself. I don't think we're going to be escaping from here anytime soon.'

Sam abandoned the scripts, sitting them safely back into the box and moving over beside Bobby at the window.

No less than twenty demons stood on the pavement below, their deep black eyes staring up at them, wide grins upon their faces.

Sam swore.

Bobby sighed, 'Looks like we'll be camping here tonight.'

********

Sam and Bobby knew they couldn't hide like this forever, but while they had some time to spare they lay in the living room downstairs attempting to decipher the inscriptions upon the scripts.

And failing miserably.

With very little food, no proper weapons, a stubborn manuscript and an army of Demons surrounding the entire house, Sam was beginning to have doubts about their success.

'It's no use Bobby,' he said, enclosing the Manuscripts in the box once more, 'I can't figure out what those symbols mean, and we just don't have the right resources,' he sighed. 'How are we supposed to use a document that neither of us can read?'

'I think we should worry about that later. For now, lets concentrate on our next move.'

'Which is… what?'

Bobby shrugged, 'Getting out of here without being torn apart by Demons.'

Sam forced a shallow laugh, 'And do you have any ideas on _how_ exactly we're going to do that? They've blocked every exit and I doubt they're going to be giving up anytime soon.'

Bobby stood and walked to the window, peering through the thin layer of curtain outside. 'Even Demons have to rest.'

Bobby returned to the couch and put his feet up, sighing. The best that could be said about all this was that it gave both he and Sam time to catch up on their energy deprivation.

Breaking the silence, Sam asked in curiosity, 'What does Lilith actually _need_ to perform the Parcaex Ritual?'

Bobby didn't bother holding anything back now. Their fears had been confirmed, but there was hope at least for Dean, no matter how fast it was diminishing. All they needed was an escape route. 'The Manuscripts of Vanatuhi as you know, and the colt, which we know she has thanks to Bela. The final element to the Ritual is a tribute – a Demon sacrifice. But since Lilith is too stubborn to do _herself_ in…'

There was a moment of silence.

'Ruby,' Sam whispered.

Bobby nodded.

Sam pouted. 'They're going to sacrifice _Ruby_ for the Parcaex Ritual?'

'I think so. Come on, Sam, you can't be feeling sorry for her now. She's a _Demon_, and that's all there is to it.'

Sam didn't have the energy to retaliate. Ruby wasn't like other Demons – she was a liar and manipulator, yes, but she had saved both his and Dean's lives on countless occasions. Sam felt a strong guilt settle in his stomach at the thought of that. He felt as if he were condemning a close friend, an ally who had aided them so often, to die by not helping her.

He just _couldn't_ let that happen.

But what could _he_ do about it?

********

Dean and Bella sat on the harsh concrete surface, having taken refuge in a basement of some sort beneath the New Harmony Base Hospital, and bordering up their entrances and exits, clinging to the small strand of hope that they could last the night without something happening.

Complete and utter fear coursed through their veins – definitely not the most comfortable way to live.

The space they had chosen seemed to be something of a storage space for old documents and files – records of past patients.

Bela had chosen the place, and suggested the immense precautions they had gone to, to protect themselves. Dean just stared at her in amazement. She did it fluently as if an everyday habit – which, he reminded himself, it probably was.

'You stay down here a lot?'

Bela finished barricading the door and walked over to him. 'Just the past two days.'

'Where were you the rest of the time?'

'Anywhere,' she waved her hand around, 'everywhere. it's very hard to find a safe and secure place – especially one that nobody else is using. I've had to move places many times. After a few days it becomes unsafe, and the risk of being caught is much greater.'

Dean stared. 'Uh… don't you think it's strange how _well _you fit into this place?'

Bela glared at him. 'Dean, we're not on Earth anymore-'

'Yeah, Yeah, I've heard your story,' he interrupted. 'Nothing is as it seems – I get it.'

Bela nodded. 'Precaution is necessary.'

'But _this _much of it?'

'Whatever gets you through the night,' she grinned, 'Quite literally.'

Dean scowled at her. 'What could possibly happen to us, besides the torture? I mean, come on, we can't _die_ – we're already dead!'

Bela looked away, 'No, Dean, there's much worse.'

'But you're not going to tell me, are you?'

'Nope.'

Dean tossed away the loose piece of cement that he was fingering, muttering offensive terms under his breath.

Bela looked up at him. 'I'm not deaf, you know.'

Dean didn't answer.

She sighed, 'Dean, if we're going to be stuck together for all this time, you've got to get over this hatred you have for me.'

Dean forced a laugh, which came out as little more than an awkward choke and splutter.

'I'm sorry to tell you this, Hun, but you and I, we're not going to be spending as much together as you think.' He stood up, beginning a slow pace around the room. 'Soon enough you'll be back on your own, just the way you like it.'

'Oh, is that right?' Bela growled, 'I supposed you think that your _dear_ brother will just come marching down here and save you like the extraordinary hero he is, then drag you back to the world to live happily ever after?'

Dean scowled, 'He will-'

'Find a way? You really think so? If you honestly think that Sam can save you now, I'm afraid that you're delusional. Even if you _did_ manage to escape somehow, you would just be dragged on your sorry arse back down again. Remember, you sold your soul that day you saved Sam, and you can't exist on the outside without one.'

'No problem,' Dean laughed, trying to reassure himself, 'Sam will track down Lilith and personally slaughter the son of a bitch, and get my soul back.'

Bela shook her head sadly, 'Dean, you're clueless. Lilith held the _contract_ of your deal, not your soul itself.'

Dean stopped, puzzled. 'Then who…?'

'There is a higher power in this place that neither you, nor any other hunter in the world has ever encountered before – though he is probably the most famous evil that ever existed.'

'What is it?'

Bela sighed. 'This creature is no mere Demon. It's hell – alive and in the flesh. The _leader_ of the Demons, lord of this world, and he goes by the name of _Lucifer._'

Dean choked on his own oxygen, staring up at Bela for some sign, _any_ hint of false in her eyes. He found none. 'Lucifer?' he shook his head, 'No way, that's not possible. We would have heard _something_ about the freaking Devil if he was actually real, don't you think?'

'Of course you wouldn't. You Hunter-types are so oblivious in your arrogance that you tend to miss the big picture. I didn't believe it myself when I first heard it. The idea of Satan – the Devil himself – actually existing sends a chill down my spine.'

'Then how do you know he's real?'

She shook her head, 'You'll find out, soon enough.'

'Find out-' Dean went red, but didn't bother trying to argue. He knew he'd just end up strangling her, anyway. 'So he's the one that owns my soul?'

'Yes,' Bela answered, glad that she was finally getting somewhere with him, 'As well as mine and everybody else who has ever made a deal. Those desperate souls are the very foundation of Demons – the first humans ever to cross the veil between Hell and Earth since the fall of Lucifer.

'But back to the point. If you remember that day you opened the Devils Gates in Wyoming, when your father escaped-'

'-How do you know about that?' Dean asked suspiciously.

'You'd be surprised at how much I know. The information is easy to come by if you have the right bargaining tools. Anyway, the only reason your Dad's physical body could not exist outside of Hell like all the other escapees is because you can't live on Earth without your soul, and Lucifer held your Dad's as well. It is a well-known fact that Lucifer's rage at your father was exponentially terrifying after that event, and he hasn't been seen since. The name of John Winchester is now a curse for anybody who is heard saying it aloud.'

He was tempted to ask her where exactly his father _was,_ but he decided that Bela wouldn't know, or wouldn't tell him in any case. But now that he understood a little better, he sat there in silence thinking about everything he'd just heard. But, of course, he still had more questions for her.

'What was that place I was in – or vision, whatever… What _was_ it?'

Bela shrugged. 'If you haven't realised yet, I'd say you're a complete idiot – but this is just a complete replica of Earth, only with a few extra strings thrown in.'

'How so?'

'What you saw, it's just one of the many tricks this place can pull. It can take you anywhere at any given time; it can show you things like the past, present, future and things that aren't actually real at all – just visions designed to mess with your head. Which is, of course, their long-term goal.'

'What, screw with me so much that I forget my humanity and become a Demon?'

She sighed, standing up. 'Get some rest, Dean. We've got to move out of here after the sun rises; it won't be safe for long.'

As much as his inner arrogance refused to accept it, Dean knew that he'd have to wait if he wanted to figure this place out. It wasn't comfortable where he lay, but compared to twenty-four hours between a set of chains and meat hooks all attempting to rip you to a thousand pieces, a cold and rough wooden floorboard was a large improvement.

He couldn't sleep, but the feeling of closing his eyes and attempting to forget his misery was enough for him. Not that it entirely worked, but it eased his pain, even if only slightly.

All had been silent for little more than two minutes when Dean's body suddenly spasm in shock, wincing at the shooting pains that soared through his head like blunt needles. The pain ceased almost as soon as it had come, and Dean lay back down, passing it off as a minor headache.

But as usual, his assumption turned out wrong-

'_Hey!_' Dean grumbled, 'That is _so _not true.'

_Shut up, I'm telling the story._

But as usual, his assumption turned out wrong, and he quickly Dean sat up again, clutching at his temple, the pain growing worse with each second.

'Dean?' Bela abandoned her watch and rushed over to him, 'Dean, what is it?'

'Headache,' he mumbled, cringing in agony and screaming.

'Oh _shit_,' Bela suddenly became anxious. 'It's them. Quickly, Dean, take me with you. Grab my arm!'

Doing as he was asked, he threw his arm blindly out and caught Bela's, the pain becoming excruciating. There was a blinding flash of white light and once again he was thrown into darkness.

********

'This place just keeps getting weirder.'

'Dean, it's Hell,' Bela replied from beside him, 'What'd you expect?'

'Uh, a pit of burning stakes, molten hot lava and endless physical torture? What else?'

Bela laughed. 'Humans, they're all pathetic.'

'Oh yeah?'

'They think they've got this _whole_ "afterlife" thing pinned down, when actually they have no idea.'

'What about the torture and pain? They seem pretty sure on that, and it's not wrong.' He rubbed at his shoulder, where he could still – mentally – feel it being torn apart in his memory.

'Legends and myths Dean, that's all it is. Humans themselves make some up, but many – as you already know – are quite true. The myth of Hell is like a continuous Chinese Whisper. It was formed and then released upon the world, but over thousands of years, it slowly wears away; new ideas are strung to it through each generation, until there is only a fraction of truth left.'

'So the Devil doesn't _actually_ have a pitch-fork?'

She ignored him, standing up and surveying their surroundings with curiosity. Dean wasn't used to all of this just yet, and was still slightly light-headed from the sudden transportation.

'Where are we?' Bela asked.

'I was hoping you could tell _me_ that,' Dean replied sourly. But there_ was_ something about this place that felt oddly familiar to him – he just couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

The earth beneath them was dirt and dust, but bushland surrounded them on either side, and an old railway track - clearly not in operation - stretched into the distance further than his eyes could see.

A rustling of leaves behind them made Bela and Dean jump. There was no wind – in fact, the air was filled with odd, perhaps toxic, fumes nothing like Dean had ever inhaled on Earth, which he just passed off as another one of Hell's heavenly traits – so they assumed that whatever it _was_, was alive and moving.

_He wants me to come, he's waiting for me._

Dean frowned. Either he was going mad, or voices unlike his own just echoed through his mind.

_I've done the deed._

There it was again. But Dean didn't move a muscle, and just kept his eyes focused directly ahead of him. After a moment of intense waiting, a figure emerged from the shadows, a gun held firmly in his grasp and moving forward cautiously. Stepping into the faint moonlight, Dean caught a glimpse of a face he recognised instantly.

'No way,' He whispered. 'Sammy?'

'Dean, he can't hear you.'

Dean knew this. He'd experienced something similar only hours before. Sam looked around for a moment and then continued on.

_If Dean wakes up, he'll come after me. I must be careful._

The voices continued, and Dean realised, gasping. They were _Sam's_ thoughts! Anxiety and immense curiosity pounding through him, Dean followed closely at his brother's heels.

'Dean, wait!' Bella pulled him back, grabbing his jacket. 'You might not want to see what happens here.'

'Why not?'

'Because you're hearing his voice – his thoughts – in your head, Dean, aren't you?'

Dean was wondrous at how she knew this, and just stared at her.

'That's because this, in all likelihood, is an event that really happens,' she continued, 'And in Hell, nothing is ever good.'

'I don't care.'

She sighed. 'Dean, if you follow Sam now, you may go on to witness the death of your brother. If not, well I can assure you that the sight will not be pretty.'

'I don't care, Bela,' he repeated. 'Even if it means I have to watch him die,' he said that with a heavy heart, 'at least I'll know how it happened. That is consolation in itself.'

'Not in here it won't be. If he dies, it will not be peaceful.'

'I'm going.'

She didn't stop him, but sighed deeply before moving on. Dean was shocked at the seriousness in her tone, and wondered what she had seen in her time that made her so fearful.

Catching up, they walked beside Sam for over an hour, and Dean felt chills run down the back of his neck whenever the voice of his brother appeared in his mind.

At last, the three of them emerged from the trees and into a clearing, and all of a sudden Dean knew exactly where they were.

An ancient cemetery, with broken tombstones and forgotten age sat before them beneath the moons glow. In the background, rising tall and mighty above them stood the Devils Gates, but Dean looked at it in suspicion. The markings and symbols engraved across its surface were nothing like what he had remembered from his last visit.

An amplified voice, extraordinarily deep and booming echoed through the night around them, sending vibrations trickling through the grass underneath their feet. _'Cast aside your weapon.'_

The voice had no physical source – well, not one Dean and Bela could see at any rate.

Dean heard, in his own mind, Sam's reaction. _I've already put this gun to its purpose, so I don't need it anyway._

Dean wondered what this purpose was, and what Sam had meant by "if Dean wakes up," but became too immersed in the events to think any more about it.

Tossing the pistol onto the ground, Sam crouched down on one knee and bowed to the voice in a salute.

'At your service,' he swore, standing up once more.

A large shadow erupted from the ground suddenly, tall and menacing; it's black evil spreading across its path, darkening the land around them. The figure was utterly enormous, towering above them with flaming red eyes.

_Lucifer._

The creature was an utter abomination, and its words magnified throughout the clearing phenomenally. _'My loyal servant,' _it boomed, _'I have a new task for you.'_

Dean couldn't believe his ears – or his mind, whatever – but just stared wide-eyed at the events before him.

_Perhaps he will reward me for my faithfulness. Perhaps… and at last I will get somewhere in this world._

Dean knew something was up. The first thing that ran through his mind was possession. Mind-control, brainwashing… _something_, just not realism. _Please, don't let it be real._

'Anything you wish,' Sam replied.

_'Go to Colorado, to the town of Idaho Springs. There is a man, a mortal man whom I would like you to meet. His name is Mathew Walker. Bring him to me.'_

Sam nodded, bowing to him again.

_'And bring him to me alive.'_

'As you wish, your lordship.'

Lucifer stared down at him. '_Azazel was not wrong. You are, indeed, worth something to our race, Sam Winchester.'_

And with that, Sam turned and walked away, past Dean and into the wilderness once more, to complete whatever task it was that Lucifer had sent him on. The shadow evaporated again and Dean stood with his mouth agape, shaking his head, unable to believe what he just seen.

_Sam… Working with Demons…?_

Bela stood wordlessly in the background, watching Dean stare at the spot where Lucifer had evaporated from only moments before. He turned to her. 'Was that real?' he asked, 'Is that actually going to happen?'

She didn't sympathise with him. 'You were lucky, Dean.'

'_Lucky?_ How do you see this as _lucky?_'

'It means that there is, at least, some hope for your brother. At the _very_ least I was expecting a bloodbath – of mostly Sam's blood, mind you. You got off easy, this time.'

But to Dean it didn't feel like it. He dearly hoped that there was some way of saving the fate of Sam. There was still Bobby; perhaps he would find a way.

_He'll be okay,_ Dean assured himself unconvincingly.

_But how many innocent people will he kill before that day?_

'So,' Dean croaked, mounds of questions piling up inside of him. 'That was Lucifer, huh?'

'Yes.'

Remembering the terrifying volume of his voice, Dean shuddered, thinking that he wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of that _thing_ if he could help it.

A single question rose to the foreground of his mind, and Dean stared over at the Devils Gates, curious. 'Bela?' he asked, 'The Devils Gates are right next to us, but they can't lead into Hell as they do on the outside, because – obviously – we're already here. Where do these lead to?'

Knowing what he was asking, Bela bowed her head and sighed. 'Yes Dean,' she answered, 'We are standing on the opposite side of the Devils Gates. It is true; if you could somehow get through those gates you would emerge into the real world. But the gates cannot be opened from the inside, so don't even bother trying. Your father just happened to be in this area when Jake opened the gates last year. It is a desperate climb, a mighty struggle to cross the border between life and death, and it was a great achievement for a mortal man to exit the gates of Hell.

'At that time, your father was aware that he didn't own his soul, but he also knew that he probably wouldn't get another chance, and climbed out in the hope of seeing his two sons one final time.'

Dean gulped, wondering how much pain his father went through just to see them that day, when they had finally killed Azazel, the Demon they had hunted for so many years.

'And Mathew Walker? Ever heard of him?'

Bela shrugged, 'I don't know. The name sounds familiar, but I forget where I've heard it before.'

The wind howled through the leaves of the bushland, and the night suddenly became cold and chill. Moans and growls of nameless creatures and animals echoed through the night sky, and they became aware that they were no longer alone.

Dean's mind was still immersed in its memory, recounting everything that had just happened, when Bela tugged on his jacket and beckoned him forward.

'Come,' she said, 'It's not safe here.'

* * *

**Sorry for the lengths!**

**After rewriting, all the chapters are going from around 3000 - 3500 to 5500 and 7000 =P**

**I'll post most after reviews - if the length bothers you, tell me! =D**

**Cheers**


	6. Chapter Five

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Note – **Chapter 5, up and away. Thanks for reading, and please Review =)**  
**

**Chapter Five**

'I can't do it.'

Bobby frowned at him, sitting with his back leaning against the couch and staring blankly at the Manuscripts in Sam's hands silently.

'If we can't leave the house, then we won't be able to find the resources we need to decipher these codes.'

Sam passed the scripts down to Bobby, who nodded to show he understood and began to examine the pages, as if probing the depths of his mind in the hope of finding some long-repressed knowledge that could possibly help their situation.

Finally he spoke. 'I have no idea,' he said. 'But there's got to be something here… _anything_ that could help us.'

Sam shrugged, not so sure.

'Your dads journal?' Bobby asked, 'Did you search through there?'

'Yes,' Sam nodded, picking it up, 'In fact, I found a hell of a lot on Estonian legends, ancient mythology and a few brief lines on Lucifer – just nothing that could help us with the Manuscript. But there _was_ this small entry on April 9th 1993:

'"_Yellow-eyes is probably the toughest Demon I've ever tracked. He leaves no trace of his whereabouts that I could find – even Ash couldn't locate him exactly. Although I know he doesn't carry it with him, I know he is keeping it safe, and it must be found quickly."'_

'And he didn't mention what "_it_" actually was?'

Sam shook his head. 'Nope. I guess he just didn't want us interfering with his search when he left us the journal to find.'

Bobby laughed. 'Always the same, he was; the go-after-it-alone type. He knew that if you boys had found out, you'd be on his tail in seconds.'

'Yeah, yeah, I get it,' Sam replied, 'He didn't want us getting ourselves hurt. How old does he think we are? We've seen a hell of a lot of things in our time, and he knows it. Why doesn't he trust us?'

Bobby sighed, 'It's not that he doesn't trust you boys. You have no idea how important this is – it's no routine job. He knew that one day you would be ready to face this, but back then he knew you just weren't prepared yet. Now, we need to figure out a way out.'

'There _isn't_ any way-' Sam paused. 'What was that?'

Straining their ears, the two of them held their silence, listening intently. Sam began to relax again, assuming that it was just the paranoia kicking in - when he heard it once more, and Bobby did too; a faint wail, as if someone were crying, and the source was somewhere _inside the house_.

Sam gasped.

They weren't alone.

In an instant the two of them had risen, pocketed a vial of Holy Water each and wielded two iron crowbars as they stepped cautiously forwards into the kitchen, searching for the sound's source.

Signaling with brief hand-gestures, they proceeded through into the dining room, looking in every cupboard, and under every piece of furniture.

Bobby pointed to the staircase, then to himself. 'You check the bedrooms down the hall,' he whispered, before ascending to the top floor.

Sam nodded in agreement and immediately fixated his ears on hearing the cries again.

He was led into the smallest bedroom, stepping slowly inside, his crowbar raised in anticipation of an attack. He saw nothing there at first, but as he stepped further into the room and the sobbing became clearer, he spotted the large cupboard to his left and approached it slowly.

Opening the door, Sam relaxed his weapon and crouched down beside a small child, who lay curled up in the corner with her head in her arms. She looked up at him with one bleary eye, blinking slowly at his face. Her cheeks were lined with faint salty trickles, a shadowy mark of past tears that had fallen from her sleepless eyes.

Sam reached out to her, but the child pulled herself further into the corner and continued sobbing. Sam flicked his fingers and small droplets of water flew from their tips, landing on the small child. She flinched slightly at the sharp movement in his hand, but the liquid had no effect at all.

_Holy water_, Sam thought to himself, _if this is no Demon… then what's she doing here?_

Her voice shook, petrified just at the sight of him. Sam reached out again and she drew back, pressing herself firmly against the wall.

'Hey, hey! Sshh. It's okay,' Sam whispered, 'I'm not going to hurt you; I promise.'

Immediately her shaking ceased and she looked up, easing the sobs in trust. Bobby appeared at the door, and Sam quickly shook his head, signaling for him not to come in.

'What's your name?' Sam asked politely.

'Lily,' she whimpered.

Sam stared for a moment at the crying girl, wondrous at the ironic coincidence in her name. He didn't have long to dwell on this notion, for Lily began to stand, her legs clearly shaking phenomenally.

'What are you _doing _here?' Sam asked her, leading her out of the cupboard.

'I l-live… h-here,' she whimpered, wincing at the light of sunset streaming in through the window.

She wouldn't say much more than that, and Sam suspected that she was just tired. Bobby beckoned her out and into the living room where they had been sitting before. She sat down on the couch and stared continuously at the blank TV, her face void of any emotion.

It was an odd transition.

Bobby surveyed the girl from his position, and then quietly gestured for Sam to follow him. Once they were out of earshot of Lily, Bobby whispered seriously, 'How do we know she's not a Demon, Sam?'

'Bobby, I sprayed her with holy water, and she didn't have the slightest reaction.'

'But Lilith was immune to it, remember?'

'What else are we going to do?' Sam growled. 'Throw her out? If she _is_ Lilith, there's no way we'd be able to do that without her trying to stop us, and probably being killed in the process. And if she _is_ actually just a helpless little girl, the Demons would devour her. We have no choice here.'

Bobby scowled. 'And if it was Lilith, she'd have thought of that – crazy, not stupid.' He sighed. 'We can't trust her just yet.'

'I'm not saying we _trust_ her-'

'Think about it, Sam,' Bobby interrupted, 'She's the only _person_ we've seen since we arrived in Kansas, and she just _happens_ to be in this house? Surrounded by Demons?'

Sam shrugged, 'These things happen, Bobby.'

'Not to us they don't. Coincidences _never_ happen with us.'

'I know, and we'll just have to be careful. Bobby, give her a chance – she may not be what you think. And if she's not, she wouldn't deserve this treatment.'

Bobby considered this. 'Fine. But she must be watched – _all _the time.'

'Fine.'

In agreement, the two of them re-entered the dining room.

'Hey, HEY! No! Don't touch those,' Sam raced over and snatched the Manuscripts from her fingers and placed them back in the box, taking it into his care.

_For something of such immense value, we sure know how to take care of it_, he thought.

'These are very important,' he explained, passing them off to Bobby. 'Please don't touch them.'

Lily didn't argue, – actually, she didn't show any sign that she had heard them at all – but looked as if she would drop to sleep at any moment, and Sam offered to take her up to one of the bedrooms where she could do just that.

She shook her head, and continued to sit in her silence.

The last rays of sunlight penetrated the world before the sun set and darkness was thrust upon them. Collected from the upstairs bedrooms, they set up a camp in the living room complete with pillows and thin blankets. Lily agreed to sleep on the lounge, and settle down whilst Sam and Bobby checked once more that the house was completely Demon-proof - knowing that this, at least, was paranoia. Even without every window, door and slightest crack completely bound by Ansazi symbols, the house was still protected by the countless and powerful rituals that radiated from the walls. If they felt unsafe in there, then there was nowhere they possibly wouldn't.

Both Sam and Bobby were extremely tired, and their bodies were hardly willing to stay conscious much longer. But to be safe, Sam was set as the night watchman for the first shift, and would wake Bobby in another four hours when it was his turn.

* * *

'They have _churches_ in Hell?'

The sheer concept of it amazed Dean.

'Like I said before, this is just a replica of the real world; of _course _they're going to have churches. But these ones are neither hallowed nor sacred in any way – so don't waste your time; your precious god isn't going to hear you. Nothing here is as it seems.'

The two of them had been walking through the darkness for hours, stumbling through the forests behind the Devils Gates blindly before emerging at one of the churches to which the devils trap railways came to a point. After a quick search they decided that it was safe and set them up for the night.

'So, this place,' Dean began, resting his sore back up against a wall and looking up at Bela, 'It knows everything that ever has and ever will happen in the real world, and can just play things back to you at anytime it wants?'

'Pretty much,' she answered. 'But they tend to choose the worst memories and future events, to keep the target living in fear – it's all part of their long-term goal.'

'Long-term goal…?'

'Uh, the becoming a Demon part?'

'Oh,' Dean realised. 'Sorry… forgot.'

'You really are an idiot, sometimes. Believe me, the longer you stay here, the worse it becomes. This is only the beginning. It takes a long time to become a Demon, and many phases of punishment and cruelty. They were all once people, broken down and tortured for thousands of years in here. Whether you like it or not, this will be your fate, as it will be mine. It's just up to you how long you postpone it for. Though, it will be much more painful the longer you- _aargh!_'

Bela clutched at her head and slipped to her knees.

Instantly Dean was alert, pulling himself to his feet. 'What-'

Without warning, Bela leapt across the room and grabbed Dean by the arm – and for the second time that night Dean felt the floor drop out from beneath him and they fell downwards into darkness.

********

They hit the ground clumsily, Dean having the wind knocked out of him and – pushing Bela off of him – stood up to examine their surroundings. He scowled. 'Does this place do _anything _else? I swear… can't they let me rest in peace for more than ten minutes?'

'Dean, you'll wish this happened _every_ ten minutes compared to what you'll feel later on.'

'Thanks – that makes me feel much better,' he replied sourly, catching his breath in the process. 'Where are we?'

They stood on the edge of an old road, in the middle of nowhere. The night was cold and wet, rain pouring from the thick clouds that hung above them, and nobody in sight.

'Bela?'

He turned, a questioning look on his face, but stopped instantly when he saw that she had tears in her eyes.

She bowed her head, tears falling from her cheeks and splashing into the grass beneath her feet. A curious thought struck Dean, and – looking up the highway, he thought about the night Bela had doomed herself, by striking a deal to murder her own parents.

_They had died in a car crash._

'Why did you hate your parents?' he asked curiously.

Bela wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up into Dean's. 'My childhood was a nightmare,' she began. 'You wouldn't understand, but my parents… they were cruel people. They abused me, raped me, hit me, and when I looked into their eyes I knew that they never loved me. I was an accident; a mistake. They had never wanted a daughter, and they let me know it _every_ _day_ for fourteen years.

'I became independent at the age of six. I did absolutely _everything_ for myself. To get to school I had to walk seven miles down the road, or order a cab. Since I didn't have any money, I could rarely do the latter. My parents had a lot of spare time, because neither of them worked – they even had their own personal limo driver, but forbid him to drive me.

'They _forbid_ him?'

Bela nodded. 'But he did drive me – on many occasions, - and my parents never found out. I was extremely grateful of him. But then, when I turned twelve and had finished primary school, they took me home and for the next two years I was like a prisoner within my own house. I slaved away, working so hard for their affection, but it never came. I cried myself to sleep every night, and feared every minute of every waking moment. They despised me then, just as they always had.

'I knew what I had to do, but I just wasn't strong enough. If you didn't get the right idea, I was being quite literal when I said 'prisoner'; escape was impossible. They hated me, but still made sure I stayed, just so that they could watch me suffer. But I waited, and a week after I turned fourteen, my chance came.'

'And you made a deal,' Dean nodded.

'Yes. I don't know where she came from, but appeared beside me on the swing-set, and offered me a very tempting deal.

'"_I can take care of them for you_," was what she said, _"And it won't cost you anything. For ten whole years_."'

'I accepted, thinking that it was all just a false hope, that there just wasn't really a possibility of it happening. But that night I had returned home to find the Police parked out the front. I knew exactly what had happened, but I couldn't confront them and face what I'd done, so I'd crept in through the backyard, packed a few supplies, took some money and set off on my own. I then ditched the name my parents had given me, and that's the way I liked it.'

Dean couldn't think of anything to say. If anybody had deserved what they had gotten, it had been Bela's parents. _Not that it wasn't unthinkable to do such a thing to your own parents_, he thought; but it was understandable in her position. He felt deep sympathy towards her – something he had never thought would ever be possible.

A loud grumble of an engine roared in the distance. 'I never knew what exactly had happened tot them,' Bela continued. 'All I'd heard was that it had been a car crash, and the brakes had been – allegedly - cut.

'I didn't know,' she whispered, allowing her tears to flow freely and gulping. 'Until now.'

The car came into clearer view; it's headlights ablaze and – seemingly - in total control. It sped down the road towards them, and, looking above the car, Dean saw it. Thick, black smoke rose through the night, an eclipse against the moon, and fell through the roof of the car.

It was over in a matter of seconds. Instantly, the car had lost all control and veered off to the right, leaving the road at a violent eighty kilometres per hour. With a sickening crunch, the car slammed into a tree, which became coated in a rich layer of blood and jagged pieces of broken windscreen.

They would have died instantly.

After another few moments of staring, Dean and Bela saw the black smoke erupt from the rooftop once more and disappear, camouflaged in the deep night sky. Bela simply stood there, here eyes wide with shock and horribly shaken, realising that this even had been her own fault. _This_ was the reason that she was in Hell; because she'd sold her soul to murder her parents.

'I understand what you went through,' Dean sympathised, 'Considering what they did to you, you were right to put an end to it. But in the end, Bela, was it really worth it?'

She shook her head and her cheeks became flooded with repressed guilt once more. But the pity wasn't for her parents – it was pity for herself. Dean felt it too.

The two of them looked across the road again, and saw that the car had disappeared. The vision was already over, and they were stuck in the middle nowhere, gasping for air in the freezing cold.

'Well,' Dean said, shivering, 'I guess we're walking.'

* * *

The possibility of, and urge to, sleep utterly devoured Sam, and in the end he found that he simply couldn't cope with it.

Convincing himself that there was _no_ possibility that a demon could - or _could have_ – entered the house with all the enchantments that his father had placed upon it, Sam drifted off into bliss in calm reassurance.

Though their sleeping was usually light with paranoia, neither Sam nor Bobby heard the soft chanting that echoed through the house while they slept – both oblivious to everything that took place while they slept.

Lily stood upon the first step, her lips moving faster than possible for a human being – so quick that the words weren't audible, and it was more like a hum. When she had finished, she took a knife from her pocket and scratched at the floorboards near the front door, destroying any and all Devils Traps and Ansazi symbols that she managed to find.

It seems that she wasn't trustworthy after all.

Sam rolled over in his sleep, waking for the smallest fraction of a second when he hit his left ankle on the side of the couch. This was just enough for him to hear the feint scratching, and in two seconds he was up on his feet again and alert.

His eyes darted to the couch, and when he realised Lily wasn't there he followed the scratching sounds to the front door. He sprinted towards the little girl in an attempt to stop her, but fell back instantly when his body crashed into a large forcefeild blocking his path.

'No!' he yelled, 'Bobby, help!'

But it was too late. Lily turned to Sam, smiling menacingly at him, her eyes shining a pearly white.

'_Lilith._' Sam whispered.

She stepped to the side, revealing what she had done. She'd destroyed the Devils trap, and broken each and every Ansazi symbol etched into the doorframe - and Sam doubted that the rituals that had bound the house would be effective anymore; it seemed that Lily - Lilith - had cancelled them out with her own.

Sam gasped, realising that he, Bobby and the Manuscripts were now completely exposed.

And the Demons knew it.

Sam started sprinting. He ran into the lounge, where Bobby had already collected the Manuscripts and headed towards the staircase. The front door burst from its' hinges and crashed to the floor beneath a stampede of hungry Demons. Bobby followed at Sam's heels as they ran, throwing holy water behind him with every step – but they didn't manage to get far.

The last thing that Sam remembered was a searing hot pain shooting down his spinal cord and falling into complete and utter darkness.

* * *

Dean and Bela strolled slowly down the empty roads, cold, wet and exhausted - both emotionally and physically. They just kept moving in the hope that they would find somewhere to sleep for the night anytime soon.

'If this place is so full of dangerous people, then why haven't we come across any yet?' Dean asked, looking for a way to get his mind off the exhaustion.

'Because in here it's like one circular food chain,' she explained, 'For each being in here there is another much more powerful than the last. They don't prowl across the streets looking for someone to prey upon – no, most of the inhabitants of Hell have hidden themselves somewhere just as we are doing. They don't want to be seen just as much as us. But when the people in here are constantly being transported to random locations, it's sometimes hard to keep out of one another's way. It's a constant fight for survival, and it's almost as if this place deliberately sets up the creatures in a position where the only choice is to fight.'

'But how do you win – or lose - a fight if nobody can die?' Dean frowned.

Bela sighed. 'There are many things that are worse than death, and the only-'

'Oh, come _on_,' Dean groaned, 'Quit getting all philosophical on me already. I get it – I just wish you'd give me a straight and _understandable_ answer for once.'

'There is no other answer I can give.'

_I can't put up with this for eternity_, Dean thought. _This can't just be the end of it._

'So, Bela, you've just accepted that you're going to be stuck here for another thousand years – tortured and beaten into insanity? You haven't even _considered_ the possibility that there might be _some_ way to escape?'

Bela turned and scowled at him, stopping in her tracks. 'Dean, _how_ many times to I have to tell you that there is no way out before your thick skull will actually understand? Even Lucifer himself couldn't escape from here just by willing it. I'm telling you that there is _no possible way._ Unless by some chance the Devils Gates open again and you manage to fight off Satan himself and regain your soul, then you're never leaving this place again.

'You will have to face it sooner or later – and sooner is preferable; let me tell you now. Dean, you will never see your brother again, and that's a fact. I'm not trying to screw with your head, - this place has its ways of doing that without my help – but you can't keep on going with this false hope of escaping. It just _isn't_ going to happen.'

Dean shook his head. 'You're wrong, Bela.'

'Dean, you… aargh. You're so _stubborn!_ You just never know when to give up.'

'Tell me something I don't know.'

'Dean, persistence is useless here. On the outside world, you use it to get through the day, to complete your "job". But in Hell, there is no possible way out, and so persistence is useless. It works on Earth because the task at hand always has a _possibility_ of being complete, just depending on how hard you work for it determines whether you succeed or not.'

'What's your point?'

Bela rolled her eyes. 'That if you try something stupid, the consequences you suffer will be a hundred times worse than anything you've witnessed so far. They'll take you away… they'll trap you exactly where you were before – strung up by those chains of flesh-eating metal.'

Dean gulped. The true terror of what this place could unleash was astonishing, and could hit people right where it hurt them most. Among Dean's thoughts and processes, a thought struck him. 'And…' he croaked, 'is that where my dad is being held?'

_After all, he had tried to escape, hadn't he?_ Dean cursed himself; _don't think like that… he can't be…_

'Yes,' Bela whispered, looking down at her shoes.

Dean's stomach dropped. 'But he'll be let go? He'll get out of there eventually… won't he?'

'Right there is another fine example of your false hope. God may be forgiving but his evil counterpart is not so much. Not only is holding John Winchester within squeezing distance an example of Lucifer's wrath, but it pleases many of the other souls down here to know that your father is suffering.'

Dean went quiet, his fears confirmed, and the loud crashing of thunder echoed around them to emphasise the moment.

'Like I said,' Bela went on. 'You're going to do yourself nothing but pain if you try to escape.'

* * *

Sam moaned and cringed at his headache as he slipped back into consciousness.

He tried to move his arm; to reach up and grasp the site of his pain, but found that his limbs were completely bound. Squinting beside him, he suddenly realised that he was strapped to some kind of oversize tombstone.

_Of course_, he sneered. _What could be more dramatic?_

'Sam?' A voice croaked. 'Sam, it's Bobby. You alive there?'

Opening his eyes, Sam turned to the side and was thrilled to see a familiar face. The only downside was that Bobby was also strung on a tombstone.

_Okay, I was wrong. That's pretty damn dramatic._

The realisation of helplessness was kicking in.

'What's happening?'

Bobby nudged his head forwards, gesturing. 'Take a look for yourself.'

His eyes were horribly adjusted, blurred and burning in the icy breeze, but there became no mistake in his mind that there was no way they would be getting out of this scene unscarred. Sam may have been immune to Lilith's mind tricks, but he held no resistance against solid chaining.

They had barely seen a soul since they had arrived in Kansas, so nobody of any help knew where they were – and Sam doubted that Lilith would let them walk free this time around.

They were strung up in the old cemetery that beheld the Devils Gates – the scene of their victorious victory over Azazel; a moment that Sam would never forget. Not only because of the fulfillment of their twenty-four-year-long-vendetta, but for being given the opportunity to have one last, _proper_ goodbye to their father.

Lilith – now possessing the morsel of a woman around her thirties – stood in the very center of the cemetery, facing the Devils Gates and holding before her what was clearly – and it sent a sickening cold down Sam's body – the Ancient Manuscripts of Vanatuhi.

On Sam's other side, his brother was also strung up on an abnormally large grave-marker, though Sam had no idea why he would need the bonds. Just looking upon his brothers deceased body, ten days rotten and still stained with blood; the remnants of his encounter with the Hell Hounds still clearly visible – not to mention horribly malodorous.

He was disgusted to be looking upon Dean from such a close angle, but he tried to keep himself strong. 'Bobby,' he wheezed, 'why do they have Dean's body if not for the Parcaex Ritual?'

Bobby bowed his head. 'It's not part of the ritual itself, but a sacrificial tradition given to Lucifer as…well, let's say a gift,' he sighed. 'They mean for him to be a tribute.'

'Lucifer's going to _eat_ him?'

Bobby nodded. 'And we've got to stop it – or there will be no hope for him. Without his body, Dean can never come back to this world. That is, until he becomes a Demon of course.'

Sam gulped. 'There has to be _something_ we can do to stop this.'

Bobby tried to move his arms. 'Hardly. I guess we'll wait and see - but I'd be betting on the other horse on this one.'

'Why do they need _us_, though?'

'They don't, really. I figure we're not extremely popular with their kind, you know… doing what we do. This way, we stop getting in their way and Lucifer doesn't starve for another day. Dean's just the appetizer here; we're a three-course meal.'

'Indeed. Lucifer has one big stomach.'

Sam looked up to see Lilith approaching him, grinning madly as she pulled her face up so close to his own that he could count the freckles on her nose. 'So, dear _Sam _– remember the last time we met?'

'How could I forget?' He snarled.

'Oh? Not very happy to see me, I take it. Well I see how it's going to be. I don't know how to say it Sam, but there's something very curious about you.'

'Oh yeah?'

'_Oh, yeah_,' she assured him. 'What I want to know is how my powers had no effect over you at all – when they had worked perfectly find five minutes before that. Was it some adrenaline rush of your not-so-keen psychic ability? Your brother had just died, so it's an accountable explanation – but I'm thinking it's something more.'

'I was just as surprised as you were.'

'Sure you were, Hun.'

'I don't know,' Sam swore, staring right into her eyes.

'Don't lie to me,' she whispered, her nostrils flaring.

'It's the truth,' Sam stated. 'I. Don't. Know.'

'_Don't lie to me!_' her voice echoed throughout the graveyard menacingly. 'You're the first person that my powers have _ever_ been ineffective against. And I want to know why!'

Sam said nothing, and just stared at her defiantly.

Lilith glared at him. 'I'm personally going to enjoy watching Lucifer peel the flesh from your bones,' she laughed coldly, '_piece _by_ piece.'_

She backed away slowly; her eyes piercing Sam's like needles, staring him down into oblivion. She finally turned from him and faced the Devils Gates, looking upon them with a gleam in her eyes.

Holding the Manuscripts out in front of her, Lilith spoke seven words in Latin, pointing her palm at the pages. '_I precor Vanatuhi, vetus regus of des barathrum.'_

Sam understood this well enough to mean, "I invoke Vanatuhi, ancient lord of the underworld." And he knew that whatever she'd just done wouldn't be good for them.

To Sam's utter amazement, the inscriptions engraved upon the Manuscript disappeared, and were instantly replaced by a language even he could read.

_Or maybe it would be._

Smiling contentedly, Lilith nodded to the man beside her. 'It is time.'

In the shadows surrounding the Devils Gates, Sam could make out the dim outline of countless Demons, standing in a wide circle around the graveyard perimeter. They all stood extremely quiet in anxiety, waiting for the deed to be done and being a preliminary caution to making sure that nothing could stop them from achieving it.

The dark-haired Demon stepped forwards slowly, reaching into his coat pocket and withdrawing a familiar and powerful colt. No, not just _a_ colt, but '_the_ Colt'.

Without hesitation he pushed the pistol into the small slot embedded in the front of the gate.

And he turned it.

Immediately the Gate began to react. The Devils trap engraved upon the doors began to spin wildly, and the doors of Hell slowly started to open.

Above the noise of the Gates opening, Lilith's voice boomed through the night sky, chanting an ancient ritual read directly from the Manuscripts, and keeping at bay any creatures that could possibly have tried to escape from the open doors in the process – although, perhaps not intentionally.

The ground shook immensely and Sam heard the distressing sound of his tombstone crack, not capable of withstanding the tremendous force vibrating beneath the ground.

The stone behind him gave a fatal crack, and – of course – Sam was free, sprawled on the grass. Lifting his head, he realised that it was already too late to stop Lilith. She continued the chanting, a glowing force field enclosing her and the Devils Gates inside it as she summoned to Earth the most deadly and vile creature ever known.

A tremendous roar echoed from beyond the Gates, and Sam shot Bobby a look of pure terror as their worst nightmare was unleashed upon the world and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Keep reviewing and i'll keep the chapters comin' =D**

**Cheers**


	7. Chapter Six

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Note **– _Honestly, there are parts of this chapter that I don't know_ what_ I was on when I wrote it – but I hope you enjoy nonetheless =D You'll know what I mean when you get there_.

**Chapter Six**

Cataclysm.

The ground beneath Dean and Bela shook ferociously, chaos ensuing around them, and they knew instantly that something was horribly wrong. Trees were uprooted, crashing to the ground with solid, unnerving force, and deep cracks embedded themselves in the tarred surface of road beneath their feet.

A terrible roar pierced the sky and the once-dark storm clouds suddenly turned a violent shade of scarlet, a fiery breeze sweeping across the land. There was no way to describe the true terror. It was as if the entire underworld was imploding upon itself - only without a spectacular display of mushroom explosions and eternally burning flames.

'Bela!' Dean yelled over the noise, 'What's happening!?'

She covered her face in her arms as another tree hit the ground beside her, overwhelming her with fragments of bark and a gust of dirt mingled with splinters.

'I don't know!' she replied, choking on the dust. 'But something is wrong! It's not like anything I've ever seen before!'

The entire airspace suddenly became riveted with thick clouds of black smoke. It was as if every being in Hell had suddenly arisen and begun to wreck havoc around them.

'Quick!' Dean said, pulling Bela off the road and into the deep bushland beyond. She shook her head, but Dean urged her forwards, 'I don't think we want to be caught out in the open right now!'

Reluctantly she let Dean begin to drag her towards the bushland. But they turned back almost instantly. A burning fireball had erupted from no visible source, plunging out of the sky and into the forest, causing an instant bushfire and destroying their hopes of being hidden.

'Oh…_shit,_ Dean. RUN!'

He didn't need telling twice. The two of them sprinted back onto the road as fast as their legs would carry them, and Dean took a moment to look shocked; Bela was surprisingly quick on her feet.

Stopping, Dean and Bela fought to keep balance as the earth quaked beneath them; it's magnitude similar to that of an earthquake.

A freaking _enormous _earthquake - even by L.A standards, which is saying something.

Looking up at the scene before them, they saw the sky brimming with the shadows of demonic shapes moving quickly in tandem. There were thousands of them; _hundreds_ of thousands. The lack of demonic presence up until now had been understandable at the least, and the sheer population of Hell shocked Dean immensely. He'd expected big – just not _this_ big. More and more were streaming by with each second.

_What could possibly make every single inhabitant of Hell just jump out of their hiding places and react in such a way?_

Suddenly, Bela gasped.

Dean turned to her, a questioning look imprinted upon his face. 'Dean,' she whispered, turning to him with a look of astonishment. 'The Devils Gates have been opened again.'

* * *

The immense force emitted from the roar sent fear coursing through Sam and Bobby's entire body – not to mention knocking them from their feet. Lilith was also on the ground, the Manuscripts lying forgotten beside her, but now that she'd finished the chant she disregarded them and continued on to finish the ritual.

The forcefield had disappeared, but Sam could hardly stand up, let alone muster energy enough to fight Lilith – or even make it _to _her, for that matter.

The best offence he had was to simply gasp as Lilith drew from her pocket the Demon-killing knife, and walked slowly over to where Ruby lay pressed up against yet another headstone, her eyes fixed on Sam in a pleading manner.

But there was nothing he could do.

_How had Lilith gotten the knife? _Sam thought suddenly. _How did she manage to retrieve it when it was in _my_ possession after she had disappeared?_

Ruby never stopped staring at Sam, but her look was no longer pleading; – it almost seemed as if she had given up, like she was waiting for the end – it looked almost _apologetic_, perhaps encouraging.

Sam nodded to her, and a tear glistened beneath Ruby's eye. Sam turned away, fixing his stare upon the Manuscripts lying only metres from him. He crawled on all fours, keeping an eye stationed on Lilith and her Demons, but they were all too immersed in Ruby's sacrifice to notice what he planned to do.

Lilith finally reached the place where Ruby lay, and without a single moment of hesitation she swung the knife through the air in a swift movement across the helpless Ruby's neck, slashing her throat and watching the blood drain onto the grass.

Sam fought back the urge to yell out in mourn, for he knew it would help neither him nor Ruby. He simply paused and watched for a moment in silence as the life in her eyes vanished and her body became utterly limp.

He felt great sorrow for Ruby. Even though she was a demon, all she had ever wanted was to help – to feel somewhat human again. She had saved their life on countless occasions, and Sam hoped that at least now she would pass into the afterlife rather than return to Hell.

_She wouldn't last another thousand years as herself_.

The vibration expelling from the ground suddenly rose to a dangerous level; it was as if continental plates beneath the surface had all managed to collide together at the exact same point with such tremendous force that it caused a full-scale earthquake.

The roaring increased tenfold, and as it came ever closer to the point of emerge from the gates of Hell, the Demons knew that the deed was done.

Sam knew that he didn't have much time. He lifted the Manuscripts off the ground and surveyed the odd inscriptions once more. He then knew what he had to do.

'I precor Vanatuhi, vetus regus of des barathrum.'

_I invoke Vanatuhi, ancient lord of the underworld.'_

Sam knew that the Demons would notice him at any moment, and so he stood up, holding the Manuscripts in front of him and beginning to read; his voice amplified extraordinarily throughout the clearing as he did so.

The scripts were translated into some form of Latin; nothing he could understand, but at least he could read it.

'Potestas satanica, incursio propinare et magister omnis hostic tremunt. Vadem, qeuen, dominiocs audi sanctae ecclesiae.'

Lilith and her army were too late. As Sam had begun reading, they had all simultaneously started rushing towards him, but were deflected by the large electrical dome that had immersed Sam and the Devils Gates within itself, protecting him against the enemy.

There was only one flaw in this plan.

_Lucifer was still emerging from those gates._

Sam was running out of time. He had trapped himself in a magical dome with his very worst nightmare – he just hoped that he could buy himself enough time to save Dean and escape before Lucifer emerged and tore him to pieces.

He read faster. 'Diabolica contremisces et effuge, invocato terribili nomine, inferi libertate servire tes rogamus terogamus ecclesiam tuan secure facias tibi libertate sancto congregatio!'

Sam felt his mind aching; quite understandable, really, considering that he was attempting to gain complete and utter control over the most powerful place known to mankind. 'Audi, erogamus sanctae ab humilare, _immundus_!'

And that final word left his mouth in a breath of extraordinary power; the strangest and most addictive feeling Sam had ever witnessed. His mind was in total control, and he knew exactly what he needed to do. It was as if thousands of years of wisdom were simply flooding into his brain; the memories and history of Hell itself updating its new part-time ruler on the ancient ways.

Images of despicable and unthinkable acts flashed through his head, and so he put them to the back of his mind and concentrated all his foremost thoughts on Dean; on brining him back from that damned place he was trapped within.

He felt his energy seeping away, but clung on to the power with all his might and knew that it was working. He didn't stop thinking of Dean. He thought of the last day they had ever spent together, working so hard to save him from that accursed deal; he thought of the many years of hunting they'd spent together before that, and forgotten childhood moments flooded back into his memory.

But controlling hell was no painless task, and very soon his struggle to cope with the power became overwhelming. He felt as if his head were on fire, burning his insides; the whites of his eyes cold and empty, rolling to the back of his head as he struggled with the immense task set before him.

* * *

Dean and Bela had taken cover again, this time just beside the road in a small ditch, where they prayed they wouldn't be found. Yes, that's right, _praying_. Well, not really – it's just that praying is apparently synonymous with the deep _hope_ they felt of not being found.

'Why are all these Demons suddenly awake?' Dean asked her, looking up into the sky fearfully as they continued to stream past.

'There's been a disturbance from the outside,' she answered, glancing upwards too. 'If you remember the last time you boys opened those gates, it was as if every Demon in hell was fighting to escape. And it's happening again, Dean, but it seems that – though the exit is open – they're all trapped and can't escape somehow.'

'I don't understand.'

Bela shook her head. 'Neither do I. It'll all be over soon enough, I guess we will just have to… Dean?' She blinked at him. '_Oh my god_, Dean!'

His physical image was flickering before her eyes, distorting and, it seemed, attempting to withdraw itself from the world he had been trapped within. Dean stood up and examined himself, eyes wide with shock.

Bela simply looked up at him in amazement. 'No way…' she whispered.

'Bela? What's happening?' There were traces of fear in Dean's voice.

Bela gulped. 'You're passing through into the real world, Dean. I don't know how he did it, but it seems that Sam found a way to save you after all.'

Tears leaked from her eyes, falling like raindrops to the ground below and imprinting themselves in the soil. It was clear to Dean now that Bela knew she would be spending the rest of her days alone, whereas Dean would be taken back to Earth to live the rest of his own life _without_ the pain and torture of Hell that she would suffer.

Though it was hardly a believable fact, it was as if Bela had changed during the weeks she'd spent in Hell. Dean felt as if he was losing a close friend.

A _friend_.

He saw her as a friend; no longer a deceiving enemy from their past lives. He felt great pity and sorrow for Bela, and as his body detached itself from the fiery depths of Hell itself, Dean swore to himself that he would do whatever it took to get her out of there.

* * *

It was a feeling like no other.

To know that you're in complete and arrant control, that everything before you is within your grasp and can be manipulated exactly as you wish. It is a power some would die for, but the only difficulty with dying for that power is that you won't live to use it.

Sam had become mentally overwhelmed by the sensation, feeling the power flood through his veins; almost as if he was witnessing – for just a few brief minutes - what it would have been like if he'd chosen the path Azazel had set for him.

_A leader amongst Demons._

And in that moment, it sure sounded – and felt – quite tempting.

But after what seemed like an eternity, the energy began to subside and he was at last able to open his eyes and see the world through mortal vision. _His own_.

And Sam wasn't sure whether he liked it any better that way or not.

It was an odd feeling - like his blood was being purified - as that sense of control continued to escape him. Looking to side, Sam heard a small splutter from his brother's body and felt his heart race. Dean woke with a start and Sam knew instantly that he had succeeded, and a sensational warmth spread to his fingertips.

But along with his power, the force field began to diminish too, and the hungry Demons prowling the edges were simply waiting for that moment. Sam could now hear Lucifer drawing deep, rumbling breaths from within the Gates, and knew that the beast himself was very close.

The view looked very odd from Dean's perspective, knowing very little about what was going on. He sat up slowly and looked over at his brother, who had an elderly parchment clasped in his hands and a bright light illuminated him from within the large force field of lightning in which he was enveloped.

The light around Sam began to fade as the last drops of power were slowly drained from him. Dean, who suddenly realised what was happening, stood up and took a few steps further towards where his brother stood. 'Sammy!' he yelled, and along with his brother twenty Demons turned and stared at him. But none of them moved, thankfully; too preoccupied with Sam at that moment. 'Sam, listen to me! Don't stop! Save Bela, please!'

There was a moment here when it struck Sam that his brother had completely lost it - and the Parcaex Ritual was almost complete, so he knew that he couldn't hold on much longer anyway.

'BELA!' Dean yelled again, 'SAMMY, DO IT!'

_It's what he wants…_ Sam thought, and made up his mind. _But I swear, if I die for that manipulating bitch…_

The tension was building up inside Sam. He knew there was very little time left, but began to concentrate on what he could remember of Bela, tapping into the forces of Hell once more. But to regain control when so much had already faded was much more strenuous, and he knew it would take a long time afterwards to rid himself of the head pains he endured during that process.

_This had better be worth it_, he thought sourly.

The pain overcame his mind once more, terrible power radiating through his body again. The force emitted from the electrical dome around Sam in these seconds threw both Dean and all the Demons from their feet once more.

After a few long, harsh minutes, Sam knew that it had succeeded, and for a moment he was relieved that Lucifer hadn't arrived yet. But then another thought came to his mind. He knew time was running short, but he had one last spur; one last task to do.

He concentrated every aspect of his thoughts on his father, and the face of John Winchester swam into view. It was quickly erased and replaced by a horribly vivid scene of his father's bruised and broken body, dangling from masses of chains and hooks in a dark place, his moans muffled by the sound of thunder crashing through the darkness.

But the power wasn't working. Somehow, Sam just couldn't control the fate of his father, but he didn't stop trying; didn't stop hoping. He fixed all his thoughts on helping him, and everything before him vanished for a second, flickered and then returned. But he concentrated as hard as he possibly could, to a point where the pain became completely overwhelming that he didn't think he could bear it for much longer.

Again the image of his dad's suffering disappeared, only this time he saw his father wake up in a world very much like their own - but by the bloody colour of clouds Sam knew that it was still within Hell. He had done his best, and in the end it just wasn't enough.

The connection broke, the pain finally eased and Sam felt extremely light. It was done; finished. But he'd left it just a moment too late. The forcefeild suddenly evaporated, and Sam was exposed out in the open before a herd of frustrated Demons.

And this was the least of his problems.

Fresh from the darkest corners of Hell itself, from deep inside the fiery pits of torture and pain arose the most terrifying creature that they had ever laid eyes upon.

Big was a laughable understatement. This beast was _massive_. Thick, black smoke flew from the Devils Gates and re-formed itself in front of their eyes, an ancient evil reawaken to resurrect its menace upon the world. It's figure was all black; a twisting, torn mass of dark flame. It's limbs hung strongly at its sides and fiery red eyes cast a sickening glow across the shadows of the graveyard. The beast radiated power, and Sam simply sat with their mouths agape beneath the true horror of its form.

It let loose a tremendous roar, shaking the treetops miles away to exercise its wrath. The Demons all managed to get to their feet – some even cowering in terror as they looked upon Satan himself, who towered above them all, breathing deeply.

As Lucifer adjusted to his new surroundings, Sam and Dean took the moment of hesitation to their advantage, knowing that if they stayed much longer they would wind up deep-fried Winchesters. Dean obviously had no idea what was going on, but had seen enough to understand that his newly freed life was – already – in mortal danger.

'Dean,' Sam quickly moved over to his brother, aware that it wouldn't be long before Lucifer spotted them, 'Dean, have you seen Bobby?'

'What – Bobby? He's here_?_'

'_Have you seen him?'_

'Uh – no… Sammy, what is –'

'No time,' Sam was becoming anxious. 'Hurry, let's get out of here.'

They decided that staying any longer to look around would prove fatal, and the two of them crawled away amidst the adrenaline rush. But they didn't get far before Lilith was aware of their departure.

'After them!' she roared, 'Fly, _fly _my pretties!' They heard her call in the distance. Okay, perhaps not the latter, but it sure would have been an awesome addition to the scene.

They reached the road that led into the cemetery, but knew that it wouldn't be long before the Demons caught up with them again and took them back to be slaughtered. But looking at the bright side: they had no form of transportation except their own two legs, no weapons to defend themselves with and the Demons could move ten times quicker than them in their sleep – Sam and Dean figured they had every chance of survival.

Well…almost.

But right in the nick of time, Bobby swung down from the treetops on an extraordinarily long and sturdy vine, bellowing at the top of his lungs and sweeping them into his arms before swinging off down the road and into safety.

Well, just replace the vine with a '70s model Daewoo and the bellowing with the deep grumble of an engine _clearly_ past it's time, and you'll have pretty much the right picture, with Bobby leaning out the door beckoning to them. 'Get in – and hurry!'

They didn't need to be told twice. Opening the doors, Sam and Dean threw themselves in, piling on the back seat in awkward positions as Bobby took off down the dirt road, throwing clouds of dust from his back wheels as they spun violently.

'Bobby,' Sam gasped, pushing Dean's rear-end out of his face, 'Where did you get the car?'

Bobby was looking nervously out the rear-view mirror at the Demons that now stood on the road, watching them fade off into the distance.

'Sammy,' he started, 'How do you think a Demon gets around out here? They can't teleport, you know. I just found it parked out the front after I managed to escape when Lilith finished that accursed Ritual. But, enough of that!' he smiled, turning around. 'It's good to have you back, Dean.'

Sam couldn't have stopped the tears that streamed down his face in that moment if he had tried, as he looked upon his brother – alive and well. A happiness that he hadn't felt since Dean's death suddenly washed over him, the fulfillment of his promise bringing it on.

'Aw, come on, Sam! Be a man about this,' Dean shook his head, watching the tears drip from his brothers chin. 'I'm not dying, you know.'

Sam laughed; it really was good to have him back.

'Seriously, Sammy, snap out of it! I'm back now, and we're not going to get _anything _done here if you're busy slobbering all over my shoes.' He looked down. 'Well, now that it's been brought to my attention – you think we could stop somewhere and _get_ me some shoes, Bobby?'

'I guess.'

'Brilliant, my feet are _killing_ me.'

Sam scowled. 'Okay, enough with the death-jokes. By the way, Dean, I owe you an "I told you so."'

Dean shot him a look. 'Smart-ass.'

'You boys have a knack for doing the impossible,' Bobby pointed out. 'Just don't expect it to work for you next time – your luck has got to run out sometime.'

'Luck?' Sam sneered. 'I'd hate to see what you consider unlucky, then. We just let the Devil rise from hell, and we've lost any kind of weapon that could have helped us kill it – Bela gave Lilith the colt, Lilith seems to have Ruby's knife and now the Manuscripts of-'

'Wait,' Bobby interrupted, 'she still has the _Manuscripts?_'

Sam nodded.

Dean glanced at the two of them. 'The – what?'

Bobby frowned at Sam and then turned to Dean. 'The Manuscripts of Vanatuhi,' he sighed. 'They're the reason you're alive, and why Lucifer just escaped his own prison.'

Dean nodded slowly, seeming to have a lot of trouble keeping up. 'So, that… _thing_, back there in the graveyard – that was Lucifer?'

The silence said enough.

'Shit,' he whispered.

'You're telling me,' Bobby said.

For a few moments they sat in complete silence, reality slapping them hard in the face. 'Bobby?' Sam asked, and Bobby grunted to show that he was listening, 'when Ruby was killed, would she-'

'Wait, hang on a moment there,' Dean cut in. '_Ruby_ was killed? What else don't I know?'

Sam sighed. 'She was the Demon-sacrifice needed to perform the Parcaex Ritual, only a few minutes before I brought you back.'

'The _what?_'

'Parcaex,' Bobby explained, 'It's the ritual that brought Lucifer back from Hell.'

'What does this mean?' Dean asked.

'It means,' Sam answered, 'that we've got a hell of a lot of work to do. Now, Bobby – When Ruby was killed, she wouldn't have been sent back to Hell…would she?'

Bobby sighed. 'Truthfully, I don't know. But she _was_ a Demon, so chances are that she did. But a Demon working against their own kind is a concept quite unheard of; and I've certainly never heard anything like it before, so my best guess is as good as yours.'

Sam sincerely hoped that she wouldn't. He knew that she was a Demon, but also knew that she was nothing like any of the others, and didn't deserve to go back to that place again.

'So,' Dean started, breaking the silence. 'Is anyone even going to tell me _how_ I actually got here?'

'Probably not,' Bobby replied, throwing them a burger each. 'They're cold, but at least they're something.'

'Oh you know me too well, Bobby,' Dean smiled, licking his lips. 'I haven't had food since… well, I've lost count of the days now.'

Bobby laughed. 'Don't worry, we'll find something more satisfying when we've decided where to go next.'

'Are you kidding?' he took another bite, 'These are _awesome_!'

Sam threw his burger back down and passed it to Dean. 'I think I'm gonna be sick. Bobby, where did you find them?'

He shrugged. 'They were just sitting in the car. I guess the Demons are going to need food to keep their inhabited bodies healthy.'

Dean shook his head at Sam, who was eyeing the hamburgers bitterly. 'Any food is good food.'

'My breakfast isn't,' Sam replied sourly, 'It's coming right back up.'

'Now, back to Lucifer,' Dean started, and Sam was amazed he had any room to speak through all that food piled between his cheeks. 'I wish we had Dad for this; he could have helped a lot.'

It was this mention of their father that left Sam feeling cold and empty.

'Sammy, 's something wrong?' Dean was looking at him in concern.

Sam sighed. 'I tried to save him, Dean, I _really_ tried. But it just didn't work… and I don't know why…'

'I think I do,' Bobby replied, still glancing out his rearview mirror every few moments. 'As I told you earlier, you need a physical body to exist outside of Hell, until of course you've been broken down so much that you could leave as a Demon and inhabit somebody else's.'

Sam knew exactly what he was getting at, and it just made him feel worse.

_Consequence of actions_, Sam thought, _it's the difference between life and death._

'The day he died,' Bobby went on, 'you cremated his corpse. His body turned to ashes on that pyre, and so he could not return to it today, Sam. It saddens me, truly it does – but fact is, there is no way that John is returning from the grave.'

'But I did _something_, though…' Sam said slowly. 'At first I saw his strung up in chains, and after I tried to help him, all it did was transport him somewhere else. I freed him from wherever he was, at the very least.'

Dean nodded. 'Dad's been trapped in that… place, for over a year – ever since he escaped that day we opened the Devils Gates.' He sighed. 'Well, I know _I'm_ much happier knowing that he'd not suffering so horribly now.'

At the topic of Hell, Sam noticed a certain uneasiness with his brother, and – though he had a thousand questions banked and lying in wait - he didn't press his brother for information.

Bobby nodded. 'He would be very proud of you – both of you, knowing what you've done for each other. Dean, the idiot who sold his soul for Sam - the moron that refused to finish off his to-be murderer. You boys… you are each others vice as well as virtue, and I'm not even sure whether it's a good thing or bad. But remember, the enemy knows this – and you're _not_ invincible, no matter how many times you've proven you are lately. But you are lucky that you have each other – perhaps this world still has some hope.'

Dean suddenly looked up. 'Sam?' he asked urgently, 'What happened to Bela? Did you help _her_?'

Sam nodded. 'Dean, what could possibly have happened in that place to change your mind about her so much?'

'I couldn't let her stay to rot in there,' he bowed his head. 'She had done some bad things in her lifetime, sure. But she didn't deserve what she got.'

'Didn't deserve-' Sam shook his head in disbelief. 'Dean, she _killed_ her own parents. As far as I'm concerned, she deserved every ounce of pain that she got.'

'No,' Dean insisted. 'No she didn't. She had every reason to get rid of those monsters. You don't know what they did to her.'

'But, she's betrayed us so many times! She _stole the colt!_ If not for her, you might not have gone to hell at all. You can't trust her, Dean, not after all the trouble she's caused.'

'I didn't say we _trust_ her, Sammy. I asked you to help her. That's what we do, isn't it? Now come on! Shouldn't we be hugging and crying by now? This isn't the most emotional reunion I've ever had, you know.'

'But you said-'

Dean grinned. 'I lied.' He reached over and hugged his brother, glad that they were finally together again. 'It's good to see you again, Sammy.'

Sam nodded, and Dean withdrew. 'You too.'

'Boys…' Bobby said nervously, 'I hate to break the moment – but we've got a problem here.'

He gestured into the rear-view mirror, and, looking through the back window, the brothers saw what he was talking about.

No less than six vehicles kicked up dust in the distance, driven by a pack of murderous Demons that the three of them knew they couldn't take on alone. 'Oh, dear mother of…'

They were closing in, ever so slowly, fearless with speed and determined. Lilith wasn't about to give up so easily, it seemed.

'Bobby!' Sam exclaimed. 'Can't this thing go any faster?'

'I'm trying Sammy, I'm trying! I just don't have the best taste in cars, you know.'

Dean shook his head in disgust. 'You got that right. But if you could step it up just a _tiny_ bit, that'd be great. They're gaining fast.'

'I don't like our chances…' Bobby looked frustrated.

'Yeah, with you at the wheel – I don't either. Quit acting your age, and get a move on!'

Bobby scowled.

They left the dirt road five minutes later, now very suspicious of the Demons. They had just been sitting on their tails in the distance, not moving any closer for a while now.

'Bobby…' Sam started, 'Since I brought Bela back – where would she have been taken _to_?'

'Well, her spirit would have moved back into her physical body, so she would wake up wherever her body was laid when she…' Bobby paused for a moment, eyes wide. 'Oh, crap.'

'What is it?' Dean asked, worried.

'I read the official report of her death in the paper the week she died. Headline news of course – the Police were baffled over this mauled body with no trace of an attacker at all, and –'

'Bobby! We're in a bit of a rush here,' Dean insisted, 'what's your point?

Bobby sighed. 'Bela was buried beside her parents in their own personal family graveyard, in New Hampshire.'

A harsh silence broke over them, and Sam's heart plummeted into his stomach at the news.

'She was…_ buried?_'

Bobby nodded.

'Shit,' Dean whispered. 'Bobby, we've got to help her.'

'Why us?'

'Because we _put _here there! She's freakin' buried alive, six feet underground because of us!'

'But Dean,' Bobby said calmly, 'New Hampshire is halfway across the country. It'll take more than _thirty_ _hours_ to get there from here. And we don't know how long somebody can survive inside a coffin before they run out of clean air and suffocate.'

'I do,' Dean leaned forwards. 'Dad and I worked a job on something similar years and years ago.'

'How long?' Sam asked abruptly.

'Up to twenty four hours, depending on how they reacts after waking up – if they stay calm, there's a decent chance that they'd last that long. But they would still becom unconscious within ten to fifteen hours.'

'So what?' Sam asked, 'We have to speed this trip up by _six hours_?'

Dean shook his head. 'It's more like nine, actually.'

'How do you figure that?'

'Well, for one, we're going to need time to actually break in and dig up her grave. Plus, if she _does_ struggle, she will lose her oxygen much quicker than we had expected. We need leverage time.'

Sam turned to Bobby. 'Can we make it?'

'I don't know, Sam. We'd have to completely _destroy _the speed limit, but maybe. After all, it's over _two thousand_ miles of driving. We'd be cutting it pretty fine, at the very _least_.'

Dean nodded, the decision made. 'First we've just got to get these damned Demons off our…' he turned to Bobby. 'Where'd they go?'

Looking out the back windscreen, they saw that the road behind them was clear, stretching into the distance further than their eyes could see. If anything, Sam was more edgy at this news. From past experience he knew that a Demon doesn't just stop chasing you.

'Keep a lookout, Bobby.' He warned, 'They might not have given up just yet.'

* * *

**Thanks for reading =D**

**Keep reviewing, and they'll keep a'comin'!**


	8. Chapter Seven

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Note: **_Sorry for the time-length between the last chapter and this 'ne. My excuse is homework and school… Year 10 puts a lot of pressure on you._

_Anyway – __Review__ and Enjoy =D _

**Chapter Seven**

'Hey, college boy?'

Sam scowled. '_What_, Dean?'

'How fast do we have to drive to go two thousand miles in twenty one hours?'

'How would _I_ know?'

'Bobby?' Dean leaned forward. 'Got a pen and paper?'

'Uh, yeah,' he answered, reaching into the glove box. 'Hang on.'

Dean took the rough sheet and an old pen from Bobby and handed them to Sam. 'Do the math, geek.'

Sam snatched the paper from Dean and took the pen, scribbling down equations and complex formulas – well, complex from Dean's point of view, anyway.

'Dude, you're a freak!'

'Dean,' Sam laughed, 'I thought we established that years ago.'

He kept scratching the pen across the paper as Bobby sat on eighty miles per hour, fifteen miles above the speed limit on Interstate 90 – and yet still not fast enough, it seemed.

'Sammy,' Dean insisted. 'How fast?'

Putting the pen down and scanning through his work, Sam nodded in contention. 'Well, estimating the traffic conditions we'll encounter along the way – I'd say about ninety to ninety-five miles per hour, perhaps a little more.'

'Ni…_Ninety?_' Dean spluttered, 'On _these_ roads? That's suicide!'

'Ninety-five,' Sam corrected. 'Well, this was _your_ brilliant idea in the first place, you know.'

'I was just trying to do the right thing, Sammy.'

'Since when have you _ever _done something just because it was the right thing?' Sam snarled, 'If you're so desperate to save her, then quit complaining about how we do it, yeah?'

Dean stared at him. 'Believe me, Sam. She's different. She's _changed_.'

'Oh yeah?' Sam spat, 'And if it were Bela with the decision; you think she would have done the same?'

Dean scowled at him, 'That's beside the point.'

'No Dean! It's no-'

'Sam! Dean!' Bobby turned to stare at them, 'What the hell's gotten into you two?'

'Nothing,' Sam answered, sitting back in his seat grumpily.

Bobby kept staring, and Sam shook his head. 'It's _nothing_,' he insisted.

'Right,' he said sarcastically. 'Whatever it _is_, Sam, get over it. We've gotten ourselves into this dilemma, and we're going to get ourselves back out. This is as much about Bela's life as our own consciences, Sam. I'm certainly not going to just let her die, – no matter what she's done in the past – and I'm sure you wouldn't either. We've got to trust Dean on this one.'

Sam sighed, resigning. 'Fine. But as I said before, you'll have to speed us up; there's a long way to go yet.'

* * *

It had been two hours since they'd passed through Nebraska into Missouri, and while Bobby lay asleep in the back it was Dean who had taken control of the wheel.

Sam sat in the front passenger seat, deep in thought and subconsciously staring at his brother as if scanning him for any abnormality he may have attained during his time in Hell.

_I'm sure it's nothing,_ Sam tried to convince himself, _there's nothing different about Dean…_

But did he really believe that?

Dean noticed Sam staring at him. 'I swear to god, Sam, if you keep looking at me like that I'll…'

'You'll what?' he smirked, 'Send me to hell?'

'Shut up.'

Sam laughed, and they sat there on ninety-three miles per hour in quiet, speeding along the Interstate for less than five minutes before Dean groaned.

'Dude, put some music on,' he told Sam, 'this silence is creeping me out.'

Sam sighed, leaned forwards and switched the radio on.

No signal.

'Ah crap,' Dean muttered, scowling at the radio and opening the glove box. 'Let's see what tapes they've got then.'

'Dean,' Sam warned, 'You know they're probably not going to have-'

'CDs!!' Dean roared, pulling his hands away as if what he saw before him was dirty. 'What is this, the 21st Century?'

'-any tapes…' Sam finished slowly, laughing. 'You can't go on living with those tapes forever, you know. They're getting old.'

'To hell I can't,' he scowled, flicking through the CD pile, one by one tossing them out the window. 'Wow – it's scary to see what these Demon's listen to. Justin Timberlake? The Village People? Christina Aguilera? They're more twisted then I had first thought.'

Sam shook his head and smiled. 'Dean, I doubt that's the Demon's music, you know.'

'It's in their car, isn't it…?'

'Yes, and in one I bet my _soul_ that they didn't buy like a regular person.'

'Sammy, don't say that!' Dean warned in all sincerity. 'You don't know what you're getting yourself into. Let's see,' he muttered, 'Ah, how about some Michael Jackson huh, Sam?'

'Whatever.'

Shoving the disc into the slot, the CD Player grumbled for a second before reluctantly beginning to play the first track. 'Aww, come on!' he yelled, 'this is weak!'

'Turn it off then,' Sam suggested.

'Yeah, you wish,' Dean smirked, turning the volume dial up to full. 'That's more like it!' he yelled over the music.

Bobby woke with a start in the back, grumpy and scowling. 'Dean, turn that down. It's not funny.'

Dean turned to him. 'When we rescue _you_ from the damned, I'll let you turn your music up as loud as you want.'

He turned it down, but Bobby didn't go back to sleep again. Not that it lasted long, anyway – the sound suddenly began to spasm, flickering on and off before dying out completely. Dean tapped the stereo, frustrated. 'Well there goes Jackson; I don't think he liked us very much. What a piece of _crap _CD for a piece of crap car.' he turned around again. 'Bobby, of all the engines you could have hotwired, why _this _one?'

'Dean…' Bobby said slowly, leaning forwards. 'I don't think that's just a radio malfunction.'

'Oh… _crap_.' Dean groaned. 'Not now, we're short on time as it is!'

And his fears were confirmed as the car's engine spluttered and died, rolling to a stop in the middle of the road. Bobby sighed, 'They've followed us.'

Dean, refusing to sit back in helplessness and resign to this bout of misfortune, wasted no time in ducking down to see the tangle of wires hanging loosely below the ignition where Bobby had manually started the car. He attempted to start it again, but the Demon's power was way out of his hands.

Looking through the back windscreen, Sam and Bobby saw them; two black four-wheel-drives sitting on either side of the road, unmoving, their engines roaring like a hungry beast ready to pounce. Sam, worried, leaned forward and tapped Dean; 'Move over, let me try.'

Dean looked up at him. 'Dude, you think you can hotwire a car better than me?'

'Dean, trust me!' Sam urged impatiently.

Dean frowned, pulling himself up and into the front passenger seat whilst Sam crawled awkwardly over his brother and reached down, grasping the wires firmly in his hands.

The absence of revving engines and loud squeaks of rubber spinning on the tarred surface sent a chill down Sam's spine, and he knew – with a sinister dread settling within his stomach – that the two monstrous vehicles behind them no longer stood still.

'Sammy,' Dean started edgily, taking short glances out the back window, 'Not meaning to rush you or anything… But could you speed it up – just a bit?'

Sam nodded in frustration as he pinched the two wires in his fingers. Carelessly brushing the two tips against one another, Sam finally produced a spark, instantaneously kicking the engine into life.

Mouths agape, Dean and Bobby turned again, eyes wide, staring out the back windscreen, as Sam pulled himself into the drivers seat triumphantly. 'Uh – Sammy-' Dean began nervously.

'I know,' Sam cut across him, slamming his foot down on the accelerator and speeding off down the road, the two four-wheel-drives sitting on his tail menacingly.

'They're going to kill us,' Sam growled with clenched teeth as he felt the Daewoo's rear-end being nudged by the enemy's bonnet. The road before him was long and dangerously windy – he certainly didn't feel comfortable travelling at over one hundred miles per hour into the curves on the run from a pack of fearless Demons bent on revenge.

But the little Daewoo was much more flexible than the four-wheel drives into the turns, and Sam found himself putting a few car-lengths in between he and his attackers.

He sighed, and looked into the rear-vision mirror at Dean and Bobby, who wouldn't take their eyes off of him. 'What?' Sam insisted.

Dean stared. 'Isn't it obvious?'

'You…' Bobby began, 'You overcame the Demon's control! You started the car… like you were immune to their powers or something!'

Sam looked away, concentrating on his driving for a moment. Dean surveyed him suspiciously. 'Odd,' he started, 'It's almost as if those freakish abilities of yours had returned.'

Sam noticed that this sounded more accusing than brainstorming, and an unsettling feeling, uh, settled within his stomach.

He sighed. 'I don't know how to explain it, Dean. This isn't the first time it's happened lately, either. You wanted to know how I escaped Lilith after you were killed? Well, this is why. She tried to finish it – but she couldn't. Her powers had no effect over me. Then, lately, I've had… visions…'

Dean's eyes widened. 'Visions? Like-'

'No,' Sam shook his head, 'Not like before. I saw glimpses… glimpses of Lilith's plan. And…' he gulped, 'I could hear you, Dean… in hell, I could hear you.'

Dean didn't say a word, and began staring down at his feet. Bobby just stared at the two of them in silence.

Sam felt terrible. _We've only just gotten Dean back, _he thought, _and already more mysteries. First Lucifer – and now this? What is happening to me? Has Azazel returned?_

But he couldn't dwell on this for any longer, for as their car shot out from the last bend and onto open road, the Demons, who had been following them closely, picked up speed at a phenomenal rate as the space opened out. The speeds at which they travelled on the straight roads were utter suicide, far exceeding the trundling Daewoo and within a few moments they had caught up, brushing up against the rear bumper and sending chills rushing down Dean's spine.

'Damn it!' he growled, 'They're going to push us off the road!'

'Well, that's the plan, isn't it?' Bobby replied, as Sam unexpectedly swung the steering wheel to the left, veering sharply off the highway and throwing them through a downhill bend, crossing lanes as he exited the turn. The roads here were much less straight.

Sam eased a small smile. _Now who's got the advantage, huh?_

He'd pulled them onto more dangerous and windy roads, where the Daewoo could move more freely than the large black vehicles behind them.

Dean looked impressed, 'Good work, Sammy! I've never given you enough credit for those driving skills you've got there. This would still have been a hell of a lot easier if we'd had the Impala with us. Where _is_ it, anyway?'

Bobby looked at Sam, frowning. 'Probably back in Kansas,' he replied, 'Still parked outside your old house, I think.'

Dean frowned. 'You didn't think of stopping there as we passed the state line!?'

'Dean!' Sam exclaimed, horrified. 'We're short on time as it is! Do you want to risk Bela's life on taking such a longer route? You can live without your Impala for a day or two, Dean.'

'That's what you think,' he muttered.

'This was your idea in the first place, Dean.'

Dean scowled, 'Yeah, as you keep reminding me.'

'You know,' Bobby started, 'I'd hate to break up this little bonding session you two are getting started, and I know this is going to kill you Dean… but you might want to take a look behind us.'

As Dean turned around ever so slowly, Sam caught a glimpse of pure horror and hatred emerge upon his brother's face.

'_Oh._'

'_My._'

'_Lollipop._'

Frozen in shock, Dean continued to stare out the back windscreen at the vehicle sitting on their tail in the distance – black as the eclipsed sun, and glinting from the pale rays of shine that rebounded from off it's glassy surface.

'That's my _car!_'

And indeed it was.

Frozen in shock, Dean continued to stare out the back windscreen at the vehicle sitting on their tail in the distance – black as an eclipsed sun, and glinting from the pale rays of shine that rebounded from off it's glassy surface.

'That's my _car!_'

And indeed it was.

From the look upon Dean's face, Sam could just imagine the warfare commencing beneath his skin; the twisting and churning of his organs in utter horror of what he was seeing.

But, as always, that wasn't even the worst of it.

Bobby stared.

'_Holy_…_mother of god._'

Their exhausted pile of metal turned the next bend, accelerating at speeds that would have once been deemed impossible for such a car. Yet here they were.

And there _they _were.

Directly in front of them, on either side of the road in which they sped along, came two more black four-wheeled drives in the opposite direction – straight towards the three of them.

Forgetting his Impala, Dean fixed his eyes on the commotion before him. They were trapped; trapped between two teams of insane, revenge-driven demons bent on destroying them at any cost, who hurdled towards them at phenomenal speeds.  
But as always, in the most crucial circumstances, the time will eventually arise at the last possible moment when the good guys would find a way out of his deadly and should-be-fatal scenario.

And this time would be no different, for they were the good guys. Bobby, an expendable second-rate character, was currently in the vehicle with them, and so it temporarily safe in their company also.

'Sam!' Bobby called from the back seat, spotting a way out spontaneously and effortlessly, 'Turn right!'

Without hesitation, Sam yanked on the steering wheel and threw them to the right, spinning the tires gracefully along the tar. Okay, perhaps not gracefully, but as graceful as possible when you're being hunted by a pack of murderous villains.

The demons followed on their heels, but suspiciously slowed down and allowed Sam to drive on ahead.

Silently cheering, the three of them watched as Sam rounded another bed. Their silent cheers were then suddenly silenced, and their stomach's dropped violently as they trundled through a pair of ancient open gates, which guarded the property they had stumbled upon.

The car spluttered for a moment and rolled to a stop outside a large barn-house, and it was now obvious to the three of them that the Demon's had led them into a trap.

Dean groaned. 'Well, you've got to hand it to them, don't you? They've sure thought this through.'

'You're commending them?' Sam stared, horrified.

'Shut-up, you two,' Bobby whispered, gesturing towards the barn door, from where a large number of bodies emerged from them, presumably more Demons.

The four black territories pulled in beside their waste-bucket, the Impala slipping in silently behind. With the familiar creak of its doors, two Demons burst from its interior.

One had shaggy black hair, pulled together at the back in a ponytail. He was of a strong build, and didn't look like one to mess with at all. The second, though, was a female. From her look, she seemed that – as a human – she would have been quite innocent. But of course, these were demons, and not humans, and so looks were quite often very deceiving.

Not bothering to attempt resisting, Dean just sat there quietly as one of the larger males ripped the car door from off it's hinges, threw it to the side and took Dean by the scruff of his neck into his care.

A second man pulled Bobby through the rear end of the car, and the younger blonde woman who had emerged from the Impala took Sam. If the circumstance weren't so dire, Sam would have been ashamed that he was the one who'd been chosen to be the female's company.

No doubt he'd hear all about it once they'd gotten themselves out of this mess.

They were lead abruptly through the barn doors, outnumbered and quite lifeless with their movements. They were viciously shoved into a corner, guarded by more demons, who all turned to face the centre of the space.

From the rear of the barn, another Demon emerged. He was smaller than many of the other Demons, but respect all turned to him, and it seemed that he was the leader of this pack. He had a satisfied smile upon his face – though menacing nevertheless.

He turned to the three of them, who stared at this leader with blank faces. Dean's eyes shifted around the barn for a moment, surveying possible exits and other escape routes.

The leader chuckled at Sam and Dean. 'Did you _really_ think that you would be allowed to simply walk away quietly? Lucifer will not be very happy.'

'Aww, poor him,' Dean replied, rolling his eyes. 'I'll send him a tissue, okay? Air-mail quick enough, or could I send one of your bus-boys here to do it for me?'

The leader ignored him.

'There is a new leader within the world,' he continued, 'Soon enough you pathetic race of humans will bow down to his mercy; beg him to keep you alive. The world shall return to its rightful place. Hell on earth is no longer a mere philosophical phrase – it's here, and it's happening. You will all feel the true wrath of Lucifer _very_ soon.'

'Of course we will,' Dean groaned, eyeing his Demon warily as he was searched for weapons, 'I really don't think- _hey! _Watch it will you? I'd very much prefer it if you _didn't_ search me there.'

'You think you're funny, smart-ass?'

The leader approached Dean from the front, glaring at him through two pairs of dark pits that extended through endless realms of black space. A bottomless hole; empty and lifeless.

'Well, if you don't think so, I'm afraid to tell you that your sense of humor sucks.'

This comment was enough to get a bone-crunching knee to the ribs. Doubling over in pain, Dean spat on the Demon's shoes.

'You're not worth my time, Dean Winchester.'

The Demon walked away from Dean, surveying Sam and Bobby as well, who hadn't said a word or moved a muscle.

They were the smart ones.

The leader pointed towards Dean, but spoke to all three of the Demons in control of Sam, Dean and Bobby. 'Search _everywhere_,' he demanded, 'We can't take any chances with these guys.'

As the leading Demon strode back into the center of the room, very powerful in his stance, Dean looked over and noticed Bobby's eyes wide and staring.

They were staring right into his. Staring, without blinking – as if he were trying to tell Dean something.

_Be ready._

It all happened so fast that Dean almost didn't see what just took place. One second he was staring at Bobby and his searcher, and the next he was thrown into a state of complete oblivion by the sudden drawing of a blurred silver weapon by Bobby.

Unexpecting of an attack, Bobby managed to throw the Demon off his back and turn around with a swift movement to bring his weapon slashing across the Demon's neck.

Dean used the moment of slight hesitation due to shock of his own Demon, and swung his elbow underneath his arm, catching the Demon off guard and then doubling it up with a mighty kick to the chest.

Bobby didn't take long. Sam seemed to be having the most trouble. His own Demon sensed that something was going down and got the better of Sam before he could get anything over her.

And yet the only thing going through his mind was _"Why am I getting beaten up by a girl? Oh I am not looking forward to Dean later."_

But the situation was brought under control in a matter of moments.

Bobby, after a quick lunge at Dean's demon, brought his silver weapon plunging down into the woman's back, letting her fall to the ground with Ruby's Demon-Killing knife protruding from her spine.

But neither Sam nor Dean took any time to dwell upon this. They bunched up together, with Bobby at the front, staring at the large group of Demons before them, who all eyed the knife warily.

Bobby nudged the two of them towards the door, holding the knife out before him in a threatening position. No demon dared to approach them. They all just stood there with clenched teeth and aggravated looks upon their faces – with good reason. Nobody, especially a demon, likes to feel so helpless.

Seizing their chance, Dean, Sam and Bobby suddenly sprinted through the barn doors, out into the burning sunlight and towards their stolen Daewoo.

Dean, stopping in his tracks, felt as if he could hit himself. 'What the hell am I doing?' he asked aloud, muttering about his stupidity as he changed course and headed for the Impala.

Catching on, Bobby and Sam followed as Dean wrenched open the black doors and jumped in front of the wheel, sighing with an air of relief. His car was safe.

'Come on,' Dean muttered, searching anxiously for something, 'where are you?'

He pulled down the sunscreen from above him and punched the air in quick success. He kissed the body of his set of keys and inserted them into the ignition, listening with great happiness as the car roared to life beneath his fingers.

'It's been a long time, baby,' he whispered, 'I swear I'll never leave you again.'

'Dean,' Bobby whispered, keeping their eyes fixed upon the barn doors, where the Demon's stood in anger, unwilling to put themselves at such great risk by advancing upon their car, 'Dean, open the door and move over.'

'Huh?'

'Dean,' he insisted, 'You know perfectly well what these Demon's are capable of. You've got to let Sam drive.'

Dean cursed, reluctantly pulling himself across and into the passenger seat as Sam rounded the car and pulled himself in front of the steering wheel.

Dean folded his arms in disappointment and stared at Sam in envy as the car began to move. 'Screw up my car,' he warned, a longing to drive his vehicle keen within his mind, 'And I'll kill you.'

They backed up and began to accelerate away from the property, all the while keeping a close eye upon the group of Demons watching them. Dean turned to Bobby, 'Do you think they'll follow us?'

Bobby sighed, 'I think it's something we should expect, but for now, at the very least, let's just get as far away from this place as possible.'

It was Sam's turn to speak. He looked into the rear-vision mirror at Bobby, but spoke to the front windscreen. 'What I want to know, Bobby… Is how the heck you managed to get that knife!?'

Dean frowned, and then turned to Bobby again. 'Yeah… I could have sworn that I'd seen it in Lilith's hand in front of the Devils Gates earlier… It might have been my mind playing tricks on me.'

Bobby shook his head, 'No, Dean, you saw right. I have no idea what the knife that Lilith held was, but this one – Ruby's – has been in _my _possession ever since the day you died, Dean.

Sam blinked. 'What? So you're saying there's a _second_ knife?'

Bobby shrugged and sat back, sighing, 'I have no idea.'  
Sam, curious, gestured for the knife, and Bobby handed it to him. Speeding down the highway at 85 miles per hour, Sam took a few glances at the knife, flipping it over in his hands and surveying every inch, as if searching for something. He squinted at a few expertly carved inscriptions upon the blade of the knife, and then handed it back. 'Bobby, do you think you could read the inscriptions on the blade?'

Dean watched as Bobby shrugged and turned it over, taking a long, hard look at the symbols. 'It's nothing modern, I can tell you that mu-'

'Since when is it ever,' Dean muttered.

Bobby looked at him for a moment, nodded slowly and turned his attention back. 'As I was saying – these inscriptions are clearly ancient. The first symbol here,' he pointed to a symbol engraved upon it, 'This is just a pentagram. It means "Protection against the devil," as you know fully well – but this next part is written in some form of Latin.'

'But can you read it?'

Bobby shrugged, 'Not here I can't. But I've got a few contacts who could help me.'

Dean nodded, then turned to Sam. 'Why did you ask?' he questioned, 'You have a theory?'

Bobby chuckled, 'Of course he does. Sammy's knowledge of folklore and ancient myths is beyond the knowledge of most people on the planet – even me, I must say.'

'I'm flattered,' Sam said flatly, 'And yes, I have a theory.'

Dean whispered to Bobby, 'He doesn't really like being complimented – embarrasses him.'

Sam, having the ability to hear more than Dean gave him credit for, scowled before continuing with his story.

'The Devils Crusaders,' he said, 'Ever heard of them?'

Bobby frowned. 'I have a feeling I know the story – but it's slipped my mind.'

Sam nodded.

'Well,' he went on, 'As the myth goes, Lucifer was once an angel, but after many terrible deeds he was cast out of Heaven and sent to live an eternity imprisoned down on Earth. But he broke free, and soon enough began to wreck havoc everywhere – killing many innocents in the process. He had practically taken the world for his own, and nobody, it seemed, would dare to confront him. He was simply too powerful.

'But it is written that a group of three men - Ollathair, Palladium and Amaethon – delved deeply into the magic of old – an ancient force, long forgotten. They forged by hand and magic, three weapons. These three weapons, one for each of them, had the apparent capability of taking down Satan himself. The three men, who named themselves the Crusaders, drove Lucifer away from Earth.'

'In other words, they killed him?' Dean asked.

'Somewhat,' Sam nodded. 'But Lucifer, having been kicked from Heaven, had nowhere to go but down. Since that moment, he resided within Hell, building himself an army that would one day be capable of re-taking the world. All that stands in his way now, the only hope that any of us have for defeating him again, are-'

'-the Crusaders weapons…' Bobby lifted the knife and eyed it with certain intrigue, the wonders of its power becoming apparent to be far more advanced than they had thought.

'So…' Dean frowned, '_This_ is one of the three weapons that the Crusaders used to take down Lucifer?'

'Yeah.'

'And you're sure?'

'Quite.'

'And what of the Latin written on the blade?' Bobby chimed in.

Sam nodded, 'It's part of a spell. A spell designed to bring Lucifer down.'

'So…what?' Dean asked, 'If we were able to hit Lucifer with this knife, it would kill him? Simple as that?'

Sam shook his head. 'I don't think so. I think the spell will only work if all three knives are re-united. We would have to gain possession of all three before taking him on.'

Bobby looked at Sam in horror. 'And how the _hell_ are we going to manage that?'

Sam frowned, 'Well-'

'Lilith owns one,' he went on, 'the same son-of-a-bitch you've been trying so desperately to destroy for an age, and yet you can't seem to figure out how to do _that_ either. And the third blade – well, we have no idea where that one _is_, so excuse me for seeing how this plan is completely ludicrous.'

'We usually find a way, don't we?' Dean brought up, the prospect of a hunt exciting him.

Sam nodded, shrugging to Bobby who sighed and gave in.

'Okay then,' Dean nodded enthusiastically, 'I'm _itching_ for a hunt.'

'First we've got to concentrate on saving Bela, remember,' Sam piped up, 'So don't get too carried away, Dean.'

'Bobby,' Dean asked, ''ve we still got those maps back there?'

'One sec,' he replied, searching down at his feet and at last emerging with a small silver box from underneath Sam's seat.'

Sam frowned, 'Why do you need those?'

'Sammy,' Dean replied, 'maps of every state in the country? They come in pretty handy sometimes. I just thought that if we're going to be racing the clock in a gamble on somebody's life, we'd better be prepared. Seeing as we have no idea _where_ the Talbot family grave actually is, I thought I'd find out while we still have time to waste.'

* * *

In the hours that followed, the mood became very dull. Sam, falling asleep at the wheel after eleven hours of driving decided that the risk of Demons attacking their car was not nearly as great as his risk of falling asleep and driving the Impala into a ten-foot road-side advertisement for Hooters café that was missing the letter 's' and the first 'o', and who's main picture imprinted upon it's board had lost most of it's original colour in the sixty-eight months that it had been sitting there for.

Or, well, maybe they'd just hit a tree. Either way, he pulled over and handed over the Impala's controls to Dean. Dean dove into the drivers seat and caressed the steering wheel with his hands.

He was one happy man.

Although running on good time, Dean picked up the pace a little and put his car on its limit as they raced down the interstate, passing into the state of Ohio.

'Dean, I've been meaning to ask you,' Bobby started, now sitting in the front seat as Sam lay sleeping in the back, 'About hell.'

Dean grunted to show that he was listening.

'What was it like?'

Dean sighed. This was exactly the question he had expected, and he wasn't too keen on answering it. The entire time that he had been awake whilst Sam was driving, his very thought was fixed on the horrific visions he had encountered during his time in Hell.

And that one particular…

'Dean.'

Dean didn't answer him.

_Is Sam really going to turn against me? Against us?_ Dean thought. _Would he really join forces with Lucifer? And then there was that person… A man – a man Sam was being sent to kill. His name…_

'Bobby, have you ever heard of a man named Mathew Walker?'

Bobby was startled at this sudden unexpected question. Clearly he was still waiting on an answer to his other question.

'No,' he replied curiously, 'Why do you ask?'

Dean shrugged, 'It's nothing really, just…'

'Just what?' he urged.

'Forget it, Bobby,' Dean shook his head, 'I'm just being paranoid.'

Bobby frowned. 'Dean, now I _know_ that you don't just get paranoid. Tell me what's on your mind.'

Dean began to get annoyed. 'I said _forget it_, okay?'

They sat in silence once more, a tight air of tension gripping the space between them.

The lost words of his father echoed within Dean's mind, tormenting him.

_"You watch out for your brother, Dean. Something's going down… something big. If you can't save him, Dean – you may have to kill him."_

The words that had haunted him for two years suddenly embedded themselves within his thoughts again.

_You may have to kill him._

Dean cursed his father's memory for plaguing his mind with this torture. But he now began to realise that there may have been more to this than he had first thought.

Perhaps his father had known that this would happen? He had hidden the manuscripts from them, after all… And yet in a place so obvious, it was almost like he _wanted_ them to be found. Perhaps…

But no. If saving the world meant that he would have to kill his own brother, then Dean would simply let it fall to it's knees. It was something he knew that he just could not do.

_I _won't _let it come to that_, he thought determinedly.  
_  
_Whatever it took, they had to stop Lucifer. They could not let him regain the control that he once had.

But first they would need to begin the search for the three Crusades weapons, and they knew that the Demon's would be high on their tails every step of the way.

* * *

**Currently, i'm halfway through the next chapter - remember, i'm simply rewriting a story I wrote last year.**

**But, it's still taking a while to get through each chapter, and I don't want to dissapoint anyone or make them wait.**

**I'm willing to post the older versions of the chapters to this story, with which each chapter is much smaller (around 3000 - 3500 each). At least until I can find the time to continue this rewrite. WARNING: The chapters aren't very well written (in my opinion), as it was my first ever complete story =D Also, it was rushed to post once per day... But enough of excuses.**

**Review and tell me whether you think I should do this, otherwise the wait will be too long, as i'm heading into School Certificate, and I don't want to do that.**

**Thanks for reading, cheers =D**


	9. Chapter Eight

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Note: **There is a note halfway through the story.

**Chapter Eight**

Breaking into the Talbot family grave was no easy task.

It only took a few short glances to see that the entrance was guarded by two armed men, and beyond the gates paced a patrol team through the ancient gravesite.

It seemed that somebody didn't want their bodies disturbed as they rest in their tombs six feet under.

Dean and Bobby sat in the Impala some distance from the cemetery – far enough away to avoid attracting suspicion, and yet close enough to keep an eye on the guards.

'Patrols in a graveyard?' Dean questioned, dumbfounded. 'Is that normal?'

Bobby shook his head. 'Bela's family were rich,' he answered. 'I wouldn't be surprised if each and every one of her ancestors were buried with items of enormous value.'

Dean frowned. 'Why?'

'Old traditions, mostly. These kinds of families are full of them. It's an ancient Egyptian ritual – they believe that whatever you're buried with you take with you into the afterlife.'

'Bela didn't strike me as the super religious type.'

'No, she wasn't, but she wasn't like the rest of her family.'

Dean smirked. 'I should hope not.' He turned as Sam threw down the Impalas trunk and walked around to their window. 'Got everything?'

He carried a small duffel bag and a shovel. 'I think so. Ready?'

Bobby nodded.

****

Sam and Dean entered would enter alone, but Bobby still played an important role in the outcome.

The brothers squatted across the road from the entrance behind some conveniently placed shrubs, while Bobby pulled up in the impala on the eastern side of the cemetery.

Making more noise than necessary, Bobby hoisted himself onto the Impalas roof and climbed onto the wall that wound the entire length of the Talbot graveyard.

The alarms sounded instantaneously, and the two guards at the front entrance seemed to have been pulled out of a stupor, rushing towards the sound of commotion at once.

Sam and Dean marveled at how easy it was to convince the guards at the front gates to desert their post. It seemed that they didn't get intruders very often.

'Okay, Sammy' Dean whispered. 'Come on.'

They pulled themselves out from their cover and stealthily crept across the road and up to the gate, using immense care – the guards could be back at any moment. If they were caught here, it would be near impossible to get anywhere near Bela's grave.

'Well here's something you don't see very often,' Sam said, smirking as they approached the gate.

'Oh yeah?'

'You using the front entrance.'

Dean turned to him. 'Since when don't I use the front entrance!?'

Sam had an amused expression on his face, and simply stood and stared at Dean.

'Okay okay,' Dean growled. 'Quit it, I get your point.'

Sam laughed.

Glaring, Dean pulled the guard's keys from the front cabin and inserted them in beside the gate. With the slightest creak, they rolled open to allow Sam and Dean entry.

Once they were safely inside, they heard the gates come to a close behind them. Cautiously they moved to the left, sliding along the outer wall, crouched in the hope that they wouldn't be seen by any guard still on patrol. They had the slight inkling it would look suspicious if they were found inside a rich families loothole with a torch and shovel at the dead of night.

Unlike most other graveyards they had visited, the presence of guard life here made the area seem much less eerie than it should have.

'Man, it's time's like these that I'm glad I'm not normal,' Dean whispered as he pulled a flashlight from his pocket and began scanning the engraved names and dates upon the tombstones.

'You're enjoying this?'

Dean look up. 'No – I mean to have a job like those guys,' he gestured around, implying the patrol guards. 'Most boring job alive.'

'Well, Dean, I guess they're paid well.'

Dean snorted, 'Paid for what!? I bet we're the first people they've _ever_ had break in here and they've failed miserably, didn't they?'

Sam sighed. 'The point is, Dean, that if they weren't here, some people surely would have tried. They're not trying to catch people who come in – they're trying to intimidate them to stay out.'

Dean didn't reply to this. 'Now, where would that grave be…'

'Maybe we should try looking down the far end, where they seem to be filling from. I bet that's where the most recent are.'

'Okay. Lets get going, though. We don't know how long Bobby can keep those patrol guards busy. We'll have to be extra super careful.'

Sam snorted, continuing forward, 'Extra super careful?'

'What? We're being followed by night patrol as we grave-rob a couple o' rich people, so I'd say the precaution is necessary.'

Sam shook his head and laughed.

'Bitch.'

'Jerk.'

* * *

**Here's where the re-write kinda ends... I'm posting the rest of the story that was written a while ago - my first ever finished story. There was no actual plotline when I first started... It just kind of flowed and fit together perfectly. But you'll notice a lower quality of writing in there, so forgive me =P

* * *

**

"Here!" Sam called and Dean ran over, looking up at the tombstone. "Abby Talbot, 2008, Twenty-four years of age. Yep, that'd be her."

They set to work, Dean keeping an eye out for the guards while Sam began digging the hole.

"Dean, why do _I_ have to be the one that digs the hole?"

"Don't worry, Sammy, I'll help out in a second. Now hurry up! Bella would already be unconscious but the speed you're moving at she'll be dead too by the time we get to her!"

Over an hour of digging and Sam was five feet down. Whatever Bobby had done to distract the guards seemed to have worked. "Dean! What happened to helping me out? There's only a foot to go and you haven't done a single thing!"

"That's some good work you're doing there, Sammy. I sure appreciate it." Dean walked off to check on the guards.

"Dean? Dean!"

Sam cursed him as he continued to shovel the soil.

Dean appeared at the top of the hole holding a chicken roll in one hand, taking a large bite as he watched Sam.

"Where did you get that?" Sam asked.

Dean looked proud of himself, "At the guards desk. Hows the hole going?"

Sam pulled himself out of the pit and stood next to Dean. He snatched the rest of the roll off him and took a bite.

"Hey! What the hell?"

Sam pushed him slightly and as he lost balance Dean leapt into the grave.

"What was that for?"

'_Go on, take another bite.'_

'_Is that a dare?'_

'_Do it.'_

'_Fine.' _Taking another bite, Sam replied, "Well Dean, seeing as it's your girlfriend I assumed you would want to open the coffin".

"Dude," he called back, "Ain't gonna happen. Going out with that chick would be _worse_ than being gay."

"Well, hurry up we're kind of in a hurry here!"

Picking up the shovel, Dean took a large swing at the coffin, breaking the wooden frame but not piercing the box.

"Not too hard or you'll be killing her yourself, Dean!"

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind," he replied, taking another swing.

The coffin broke and Dean bent down, ripping apart the wooden frame.

"Oh you're _joking_!"

"Dean, what is it?"

Climbing up out of the grave and out of Sam's line of vision, Sam saw what was wrong.

There was nothing there.

The coffin was empty.

"Are you sure it was the right grave, Sam?"

"Of course! But even if it weren't then there'd still be the case of a missing body. Which is something in itself. But Abby _was_ Bella's real name, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well I think we can safely assume that there wasn't another Abby Talbot from the same family who died in the same year and was the same age as Bella."

"Then where the hell did her body go?"

"I don't know, Dean. But we'd better find out. These last two days have been the strangest I've ever had. And that's saying a lot."

"Okay, Come on, we'll go and find Bobby, see what he thinks of this."

"That's if he hasn't been caught already."

"What, Bobby? Caught? You're crazy, Sam."

Getting out of the graveyard was easy, and they didn't encounter anybody unwanted along the way. They hadn't even bothered to close in the grave, which they knew would come back to haunt them but they couldn't waste any more time; Bella could be in serious trouble.

They saw Bobby leaning on the hood of the Impala, looking proud of himself.

"How did you get rid of the guards? And where _are_ they?"

Bobby laughed, "Don't you worry, Sam. I have my tricks, just as you have yours."

Neither of them bothered questioning him further, it wasn't really important anyway.

"I knew something like this would happen, I just had a strange feeling about it," Bobby muttered, "I'm guessing it was empty?"

"You're really not one who's slow on the uptake, are you Bobby."

"Hell no! Now, do you boys know where to start looking? If she's not dead then she's either up and around somehow or taken somewhere."

"But we should find out how she got out of there first, before we go blindly searching across Fifty states America," Dean suggested.

"Well, if we know she's alive then why are we still bothering with her?" Sam questioned, "Why don't we find somewhere to stay the night and toss over the idea of starting this hunt of yours, Dean."

"Sammy I agree, except for the not bothering with her part. We'll find a local motel or something and stay there the night. Its New Hampshire, there's got to be somewhere fancy!"

* * *

"Horner's hilltop motel?" Dean looked like he'd been slapped in the face, "What kind of a name is that! Not only does it sound stupid but these beds are highly uncomfortable."

They'd checked in to the best motel they could find, and as they were in the middle of nowhere there weren't many options, which Dean was very annoyed at.

"So, Dean, where are we off to next? Where do you think we'll find Bella?"

"Why the heck are you asking _me?_ I wouldn't know any better than you guys!"

"Dean, you're the only person in this entire world who has seen her in the past month, so if you don't have an idea than nobody will."

"Okay," Dean started, "I reckon that for now we should just sit back, relax and see what happens. I mean, it's pretty obvious that the Demons are behind this, isn't it? Who else would have beaten us to the chase and dug up her body? In fact, nobody else even knows that she's alive!"

"What's your point?"

"My point is, that we were completely unprepared for this. If we go after her we might be running into a trap. We need a plan. And to have a plan we need to know where she is."

"Well, that's a start, I guess."

Sam sat on his bed, his face in his hands, thinking.

"So, where would somewhere around here that a demon would stay?"

"I have no idea, Sammy. Truthfully I don't know much about this place at all."

"Okay," Sam said, standing up, "After we find Bella, the first thing we're doing is going into town to buy another computer, I just can't _stand _trying to do a job without it."

"Okay, geek, we'll get you your computer. But come on, we really should rest."

They lay down in their bed as Bobby walked through the door holding a few drinks and pies, placing them into the refrigerator, turning off the light and getting into his own bed.

The three of them were so tired that they'd fallen asleep within the minute.

* * *

"You got the girl?" A voice demanded as the doors creaked open and a man entered.

They were in a large warehouse of some sort, the windows barred and the space empty, a feint glow creeping through the glass slightly illuminating the room.

"Yes I do, but it wasn't long after I'd left that I saw the Winchester boys heading for the same graveyard."

"Well, it seems that we beat them to the punch, didn't we?"

"Yes, sir. She's still unconscious, probably because she's been trapped underneath the ground for so long with little air to breathe. An hour longer and she would have died."

"Now then, we can't have that, can we? If we want that blade we're going to need her alive. I'd say it's a fair trade, a little thing like that for their girlfriends' life."

"Why the knife? What's so special about it?"

"Oh, my dear boy," he whispered, "This is no ordinary knife. You wouldn't understand the power this weapon has. Lucifer demands that the knives are brought straight to him, and if we fail this... well I don't want to imagine the consequences. I'll put it clearly for you; this knife represents your life-force. If we don't succeed, we'll be sent right back to that dreaded hole that we came from all those years ago."

"What's the news on Walker?"

"We haven't found his location yet, but Lucifer has set a few on his tail. It won't be long before they find him."

"How did you know that the brothers brought back their little girlfriend?"

"Lucifer has his ways."

"But how-"

"Stop with the questions, now. The boys will find us here, I assure you. But until then we must keep our eyes peeled, they could show up at any time, from any direction at all."

"What do _I_ do until then?"

"I want you to find the brothers. Don't let them see _you_, but make sure they get here quickly. Lead them on, but don't make it too obvious. Make them believe that they are tracking you down. You should know that Lucifer doesn't like to wait. Place the girl on that bed over there, tie her down and make _sure_ that it's done properly. This woman is our only leverage. We can't fail."

"Okay, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Lucifer said that one of the Winchester boys has special abilities. We can't control him or things around him like we usually can. He's immune to our power. How do you expect to overcome him if you're powerless against him?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not expecting a fight. But if it comes to that, remember that it's only _him_ that our powers are useless against. The other one is extremely vulnerable."

"But in the end, he'll be able to overcome _us, _won't he?"

"Don't you worry about that either. Lucifer has his plans for young Sam Winchester; he won't be a threat for much longer. In fact, he may become useful to us."

"Hows that?"

"You really do ask a lot of questions. Now get going and hurry up, Lucifer isn't the most patient being."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Sam woke with a start.

The pitch-black darkness of the night infected his eyes, sitting up in his bed.

He couldn't go back to sleep, not after what he'd just seen. What did they mean when they said he would become useful to them? And they knew of his abilities too? Maybe they had the answers to his questions. He _had_ to find them.

But one thing that he didn't know was when the scene took place. It had been all too real for him to pass off as a dream, but if he didn't know when it had happened, he wouldn't know when to expect the signs.

"Dean, Bobby, wake up."

Dean rolled over in his sleep, but Bobby opened his eyes and stood up almost instantly, as if he hadn't been sleeping at all. Dean turned to face him, "What is it, Sammy?"

"Another nightmare. And Dean, it's important."

"Was it Bella?"

Sam nodded, "But that wasn't all. Get up, I'll tell you about it over breakfast."

This got Dean up, "You got food? Good, 'cause I'm _starving_".

"Dean you're always hungry!"

"Nu-uh!"

"Right. Okay then, Dean, how about this: I bet you couldn't go a whole twenty-four hours without eating."

"Pfft, come on, that's easy Sam. Already done it too."

"Oh? And when was that?"

"When I died, Sammy. I didn't come across any McDonalds or Luigi's down in hell, you know."

Sam laughed, "Dean, you don't _need _to eat in hell. You didn't even have a physical body _to_ keep healthy anymore."

"My body was as physical as it is now."

"Whatever, Dean. You reckon you can do it?"

"I probably could, I just don't want to."

"I knew it. I knew you wouldn't be able to last until midnight without eating."

"Midnight! You're crazy, Sam." He ducked down and stuck his head into the fridge.

"Don't think you can handle it?"

Dean pulled his head out, smiling. "Oh you bet I can! You're on, Sammy!"

Sam shook his head, "What do you think, Bobby?"

"I think you're in over your head, Dean."

Sam laughed and sat on his bed again.

"_You_ don't think I can do it either, Bobby?"

"Dean, do you remember that day your father took you to an All-you-can-eat buffet while he was working a job with me in Michigan?"

"Oh yes, we have some great memories, so what's your point?"

"They _kicked _you out, Dean."

"So what! It tasted good! Come on, Bobby, I'll survive this day," He said, "You'll see."

"Yes we will".

"Brilliant. Well there goes breakfast. So, Sammy, what was it that you saw?"

Sam sighed, "It was the demons, they've got Bella, and they want to trade."

"Trade for what?"

Sam pulled from his back pocket the Crusader Knife and spun it between his fingers.

"They want the _knife?_ If they want this one, then they'll be wanting the last one too won't they?"

"I don't think they've found it yet, though. But they mentioned a guy named Walker."

"Wait, what?" Bobby became suspicious, "Dean, weren't you asking about a guy named Walker yesterday?"

"Yeah," he replied, "I just heard his name somewhere and was curious".

"Dean quit lying, I can always tell when you're not telling the truth." Bobby demanded, "There's something you're not telling us."

Sam leaned forward, and Dean sighed. "Well, if you have to know. When I was in hell, I saw something. I saw Sam talking to Lucifer at the Devils Gates. He wasn't manipulated or anything, it was as if you had just turned against us or something, Sammy. Lucifer asked you to go to Colorado and search a man named Mathew Walker and bring him back alive."

"Do you think _he_ has the last knife?"

"I think we should check it out," Dean started, "But who the hell is he? That's what I want to know. And how did he come into possession of one of the most powerful weapons that ever existed?"

"We will worry about that after we've found Bella. Where was she?"

"I have no idea," Sam began, "But he sent someone to come and find us. He said he'd leave a trail for us to follow. They will try and lead us into a trap."

"And we'll be ready for them, won't we?"

"Yeah, I guess you're ri-" Sam stopped mid-sentence as the lamp they were using to see in the darkness began to flicker, its light disappearing and reappearing, casting a darkness around them, from which anything could sneak up on them.

"Well, I'm guessing that's the first of the signs," Bobby started, "So how are we going to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Get Bella back without losing the knife of course!"

"Well, we could always do what we did with the colt," Sam said slowly, "You know, replace it with a close replica and hope they don't notice".

"Nah it won't work, Sammy." Dean said, looking through the window at the outside, "They'll be expecting that. We're gonna need something else," he demanded.

The lights began to flicker much faster until they suddenly faded into pitch blackness, "And we're gonna need it fast."

* * *

**Well, I hope you enjoyed that. Probably not, but review anyway, thanks =D**


	10. Chapter Nine

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Chapter Nine**

"So, Sammy, what's the plan?"

They were walking towards the car, a small bag of supplies strung over their shoulders. "Truthfully, I have no idea," he answered as they stepped into the Impala, "But we'll figure something out, I guess."

"I still think we should have gone with my idea," Dean complained.

"What? Parade in with an army of tanks, grab Bella and escape on Jetpacks?"

"Come on, Sammy! Have a little imagination! I know you're just jealous because you couldn't come up with such a brilliant plan."

"Uh-huh, right then. Well, when you find us a few army tanks and jetpacks we might incorporate them someday, but until then we're sticking to what I've got."

"Which is what exactly?" Bobby asked.

"Oh, you'll see."

Sam began to start the engine when Dean stopped him, "Hang on, Sammy. In case you forgot, the Demons _want_ us to be driving this time around."

"So what? You want to walk?"

"No," he smirked, "I mean they're not gonna _stop_ us this time. Which means _I'm_ driving."

Sam rolled his eyes and got out, walking around to the passenger door.

"Yeah!" Dean exclaimed, "And here we go!"

They set off down the road, following a line of flickering street lamps that stretched into the distance.

"Sam, how do you know they're not just going to try and run us off the road, kill us and take the knife?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah," began Dean, "If I were them, that is what I would have done."

"Well, luckily it looks like we're safe at the moment, but when we arrive we'd better all be careful. We don't know what they've got waiting for us there."

"Oh, joy!" Dean exclaimed, "Ice cream and Pancakes here we come!"

Sam laughed, "Oh Dean, its such a shame that you wouldn't be able to eat them now, isn't it?"

"What- Oh right," he frowned, "The bet."

"You thought I'd forgotten already?"

"No!" Dean answered, "Well, I'd hoped you would! I don't know if I can do it!"

"But you said it yourself, Dean. You didn't eat for days in hell!"

"Yeah! But I _wanted_ to! I just couldn't!"

Sam sat laughing at him, "Oh how its _fun_ to watch you suffer!"

Dean scowled, "I'll make _you_ suffer if you don't shut up. Now give me some private time with my baby!"

He revved the car loudly. They could feel the power in its wheels as he sped down the highway.

"We need some music!" Dean yelled over the noise, "No more Michael Jackson crap!"

"Ah, how about some Guns and Roses, eh?" He asked, but Bobby and Sam didn't speak a word, "I'll take that silence as a no, but screw you both, I'm driving!"

He turned the volume up loud as _Sweet child O' mine _began, "Wish I could play the guitar like that!" Dean moaned.

"Dean! Can't you turn it down? We've got to work out how to save Bella, remember?"

"Sorry, Sammy!" he turned it up louder, "But I just couldn't resist, its great music!"

The first verse began and Dean started mouthing the words, tapping his hands on the wheel and shaking his head, "_She's got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories, where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky!_"

Sam sat back, an annoyed look on his face.

"Come on, Sammy, you know you love it!" he yelled over the music, "_Waaaah woa woa! Sweet child o' mine!_"

Sam leant over and switched the stereo off.

"What're you doing?"

"Dean, you've really got to pay more attention. Look," he pointed out the front windscreen, "The lights have stopped flickering."

Looking behind them, Dean couldn't see any flickering back there either. "Then where the hell are we supposed to go?"

"Down there, Dean." Bobby pointed to the left of the road, where a dirt road stretched into the darkness.

"Ah, come on! Don't you remember what happened last time we went down a dirt road?"

"What's wrong Dean? Getting scared?"

"Who, me?" Dean laughed, "Tell me you're kidding. Come on," he beckoned, opening the door, "We're going on foot."

For fifteen minutes the three of them had been walking down the dirt road, equipped with nothing except a bag of salt, a bottle of holy water each, their fathers old journal and a travel-sized bucket of paint.

"Dean, was it really the smartest idea to ditch the car at the road? This walk is taking forever!"

"Well, when I thought of walking I didn't realise that it would be so far!"

"Wait, guys," Bobby paused, "I think I see it."

Out of the darkness, rising three storeys above them stood a large grey warehouse, its windows barred and the door sitting wide open.

"Do you think they know we're here?" Dean whispered, trying to gain a better look at the inside.

"I think they're expecting us, but I don't sense the presence anymore, so I don't think we're being watched."

Bobby laughed, "Idiots. Have we got a plan now?"

"Something like that," Sam replied, pulling a knife from his pocket and handing it to Dean, "You guys walk in there with the knife, but make sure you keep him distracted for a good ten minutes at least."

"What are you going to do?"

"Don't worry about me, I'm just going to do a little snooping around."

Dean hitched up his small carry-bag, "Sounds like a plan to me!" he turned, "You comin' Bobby?"

"Yeah, just try not to be an idiot."

They approached the doors slowly as Sam disappeared into the night. The wind whistled through the leaves as they came within twenty metres of the door. "Anyone home?" Dean projected, walking with immense caution.

"Dean Winchester."

The two of them turned sharply to find themselves staring upon a dark-haired demon - though it may have been a reflection from the sky - and Dean raised his knife ready to slash.

"Whoa, Hey! Easy there, Dean. You don't want your girlfriend to be hurt now, do you?"

"Where are you keeping her?"

"Oh, we'll get to that later, but what _I_ want to know is where dear little Sammy is."

"Never you mind."

"Oh, but Dean, I _do_ mind. You see, I _know_ he was with you travelling over here, but where has he run off too? Sneaking up from behind won't do him much good now, will it? You're the one with the weapon, Dean, which is why I want to talk to you."

"I get it, you want to trade Bella for the knife?"

"I'm not even going to ask how you know this already, but yes, Dean. I want that knife, and I also have something that you want."

"Why do you want this knife so badly?"

"Now now, no need to go into details. All you need to know is that I'm offering you a trade. Should you say no? Well lets just say you're girl will never see daylight again."

"Oh, tempting," Dean thought, "But I'm just not sure. Throw in a few cheeseburgers and buddy, you know we might have a deal."

"Sorry, but I'm afraid we don't have any of those."

"Oh, that's a shame. So tell me, what's stopping me from jumping forward and sticking this knife through your chest right now?"

"Well, for one I'm much, much quicker than you are and could jump out of the way as easily as pie."

"Oh man, I agree. I think we should just give in, Bobby," Dean snorted, "They've got pie, we can't match that. All we have is a demon-killing knife, a bag of sulphur and some holy water."

"Come, Dean. We'll talk inside."

The demon led them into the warehouse and over to the far side, where Dean spotted Bella lying asleep on a few blocks of hay.

"Yes, she is unconscious. But don't blame anybody but yourself, Dean. You're the one who woke her in that coffin anyway."

"Whatever, now about this trade?"

"Yes. Your knife for the girl."

"And how do I know that I can trust you?"

"Well, that's the thing, you don't. But I swear to you Dean - and you know that a Demon always holds faithful to their word - I swear that I will give you your girlfriend and let you walk out unharmed. But first you must give us that knife."

Dean stared at him thoughtfully, "Okay. I'll hold you to your word."

Dean held out the knife for him, but he wasn't as stupid as he looked. "Put it on the ground, Dean, and walk away."

Dean did as he was told. He slowly bent down and placed the knife on the floor, before standing up and backing off.

The demon smiled, moving forward to claim his prize. "Now, that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

Dean glanced over the Demons shoulder as Sam crept in silently down the staircase from the second floor.

The demon laughed, "Do you really think that I can't see you, Sam? I knew you'd plan something like this, which is why _I_ also came prepared. Boys!" he yelled, "Come and meet our newest guests!"

No less than fifteen demons entered the warehouse, some from outside, and others out from hiding places within the room itself.

"I knew we couldn't trust you! You gave us your word!"

"Oh, did I? Well sorry, _I lied_", he whispered, "it's just so much more fun toying with you Winchesters, because now we've got you exactly where we wanted."

The Demon bent down and picked up the knife, examining it closely with his cold, black eyes.

He laughed again, "Wow, Dean. You really underestimate what us demons know, don't you? Sending us a fake weapon? Unless I'm mistaken, you used the same trick to fool Azazel."

"Who?" Dean looked puzzled at the name, not remembering when he had faced a creature with such a name.

"Azazel, or Yellow-Eyes as I seem to remember you referring to him as. That was his real name."

"Oh, no way!" Dean exclaimed, "You mean like 'Astaroth and Azazel', Azazel?"

"Yes, Dean. But back to the point, I've learned from his mistakes. Now tell me," he demanded, "Where is the real knife?"

Sam stood his ground, slowly reaching his hands behind his back.

"You'd have been much better off giving us the knife, boys. But now I'm afraid that we're going to have to tear you to shreds and search you ourselves. Oh joy, isn't this going to be fun?" he looked around at his servants, "Hungry, boys?"

The group of Demons began moving towards them, and the demon yelled out to Sam, "Don't even _try_ to run, m'boy, it won't do you any use at all."

"Now, Sam!" Dean yelled.

Sam reacted quickly by pulling a long knife from his back pocket and throwing it through the air, but the demon's reflexes were too fast, and he caught the knife within his two fingers, without even a scratch.

But he didn't get the chance to uncover their real plot. At exactly the right moment, Bobby had pulled _the_ knife from out of his coat and it now stood in the back of the demon, its power quickly radiating from his wound.

Not only had they brought with them _two_ fake knives, but they'd given the real one to the person who would have been least suspected of having possession of it.

They didn't have much time now. The initial shock of their leader dying had passed, and now they all looked murderous.

"Sammy!" Dean called, "What about the other demons?"

"It's taken care of, let's go!"

Dean ran over to the haystack behind him and lifted Bella onto his shoulders, and Sam pulled the knife from the demons back as the three of them sprinted out the back door, closely followed by the hoard of demons.

"Oh, _crap!_" Dean exclaimed, "What do we do?"

Sam stopped running and looked back, "Don't worry Dean, I took care of it."

The demons suddenly stopped five metres from the door, yelling and cursing their names as the three of them walked off.

"Nice work, Sammy! What'd you do?"

He laughed, "There's a twenty squared metre Devils trap painted into the floorboards on the second floor. There's no way those demons are escaping."

"Aww, man! Does this mean we have to walk all the way back to the car? Bella here weighs a tonne."

"Dean, stop complaining. Remember that it was your decision to walk down the dirt road."

"Yeah, I know. What time is it?"

"Why? Are you _still _tired?"

"Nah, I'm just curious about how long is left until I'm allowed to eat again."

"Not for a while yet, Dean," he laughed.

"You know, if I starve because of this bet of yours, you'd better be sure that I'll be suing both o' your ass's."

"Fat load that'll do, Dean. We'd probably get, what? A ten thousand dollar penalty? That'll just come right out of all your credit card scamming."

They opened the trunk of the Impala and stored their kit bags. Dean was highly disappointed at the lack of weapons in there. "We need to re-fill this thing," he began, "Have either of you got any idea where I can get some new weapons?"

"Well," said Bobby, "I know _I_ would have some spares you can use, but my car is over a thousand miles west from here, so we won't be getting there any time soon."

They began to drive back to the motel. Dean sat in the back with Bella's head resting on his leg, "How long do you think it'll be until she becomes conscious again?" he asked.

"I don't really know, maybe four, five hours?" Bobby answered, "But I think until then we're going to have to head back to the motel room, and I sure as hell want to know more about this Azazel thing."

"Yeah, Dean. What was all that in there? What do you know about this Azazel, and who's Astaroth?"

"Well, I have some really good news," Dean smirked, "Not only do we know how to bring down Lucifer, but I think I just found out how to stop Lilith too."

"How?"

"Give me some pie and I'll tell you."

"Forget the pie, Dean, just tell us the story."

"Fine, but you guys are shouting me to an all-you-can-eat at midnight!"

Sam snorted, "Yeah, whatever Dean. So what's the story?"

"Okay. Well, as you know, Yellow-eyes real name is Azazel. Some of the old legends say that he's in the league with Lucifer himself, leaders of hell, whereas others say that he's a dedicated servant of him instead."

"And which is he _really_?"

"Neither. Azazel is the grandson of Enlil, who is second only to Lucifer in rank. He is like a prince of hell, he and his twin sister Astaroth."

"You think Astaroth is_ Lilith_?"

"Well, it says in the legend that Astaroth was sent by Lucifer to live on Earth, but as her true form was something of a twisting, torn mass of black flame, she had to take the form of something else. In other words, she possessed someone. She chose small children, and disguised her name as well, though it is not written what she changed it to."

"That sounds like our lady friend, all right. What's her weakness?"

"Well, it says that Astaroth can only be summoned on the fourth day, and only during the twenty-first and twenty-second hours. Because that is the only time of the week that she loses her physical form and becomes the monster she really is, part of some strange curse."

Sam looked confused, "I still don't get it."

"Well, Sammy," Dean smiled, "Astaroth is only vulnerable in her non-physical form."

"So, what? We have to find her on a Wednesday at 9pm to 10pm at night, and only then we can kill her?" he asked, "Wow, talk about being specific. But we don't even know where to find her, nor do we know how to summon something as powerful as her."

"Oh, don't worry about that, I think I know where we can find her." Bobby answered, "But I'm afraid that I'll be taking off on you boys in the morning, I have some things that I need to take care of. Plus you boys had better find this Walker fellow before you track down Lilith."

"How are you going to get back to your truck?" Sam questioned.

"Oh, don't you worry about me, boys," he answered, "I have my ways."

"Of course you do, Bobby," Dean laughed.

* * *

When they arrived back at the motel, they laid Bella's body on one of the beds with her head supported by a few pillows, making sure that they kept her airway clear.

"Dean, what if the legends are wrong, and Lilith _isn't_ vulnerable at that _exact_ time?" Sam asked Dean, "I mean, it sounds a bit farfetched doesn't it? Even for us."

"Yeah, well, if I had told you three months ago that we'd be taking on the devil with nothing more than a few knives, I don't think you would have believed me then either."

"Yeah, true," Sam nodded, "Where are you going to go, Bobby?"

"Oh, nowhere special, but I should like to go and see a few fellow hunters before I get involved with something as big as this. We could use all the help we can get on the hunt for these knives. They don't have to travel with us, but the more people we have on the lookout for them, the better."

"But you'll be back, won't you, Bobby?" Dean asked, "I mean, when we find the knives we're going to need a third person to help us take on Lucifer, and Sam and I are only two people, as far as I know."

Bobby sighed, "Don't worry boys, we'll catch up later I assure you. But remember to call me if anything happens. I want to know all the progress you make while I'm gone."

"Sure thing. Bobby, do you reckon you could hook us up with some weapons, I feel naked!"

"Don't worry, Dean. Actually, I know this guy Cotalus, his lives in the area, and he's a good friend of mine. I'll give him a call and tell him that you boys will be stopping by. He'll give you those weapons you are wanting."

"Thanks a lot, Bobby. I don't know what we'd do without you."

It was ten in the morning, but the light outside was still very dull. The sky was red and the days were growing darker.

Bobby picked up his duffel bag and held up his hand in salute to the brothers, "I'll be seeing you two later."

"Goodbye, Bobby."

With those words he left, and the brothers lay themselves back on the bed, resting from their fight.

"Do you think he'll be back?" Sam asked.

"Sure he will, Sammy. He's a hunter; they have a thing for leaving at the strangest of times. It's what they do."

"I'm so glad we have you back, Dean."

"Sammy," he warned, "If you start another one of those 'at least we have each other' speeches, I'm going to strangle you."

The two of them sat in silence for a long time, thinking of the times to come and what they had dragged themselves into.

As they stared up at the ceiling, Bella's fingers began to twitch, and at long last she started to open her eyes.

She was awake at last.


	11. Chapter Ten

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Chapter Ten**

Bella stirred and sat up in her bed. Sam and Dean heard the movement and instantly stopped for a second, watching Bella open her eyes and adjust to the surroundings.

"Where am I?" Bella asked, looking around.

"Horner's Hilltop Motel, New Hampshire," Dean answered, walking over to her and crouching down, "And it's good to see you too."

"What? Who _are_ you?"

Dean looked shocked, and turned to Sam, who shrugged and stood up.

"You don't remember us?" Sam asked, and Bella shook her head, "Well, what _do _you remember?"

"Its all very blurred," she clenched her eyes as if looking into the past, "I remember…I see a man, a black man, he's… he's asking me for something."

"What was this mans name?" Sam insisted.

She strained her mind, "He told me, but I can't remember."

"What did he ask you?"

"He wanted to know where somebody was."

"Did he say who?"

"Yes, but its still a little foggy," She looked almost in pain as she attempted to remember, "Somebody called Woolchester, or something like that."

Dean and Sam glanced at each other, both thinking the same thing. "Was his name Gordon?" Dean asked.

"Yes," she looked up, "Yes it is, I remember now. So who were you again? And how did I get here?"

"I'm Dean and this is my brother, Sam. Gosh it is so _weird_ to be introducing myself to somebody we've known for such a long time. You were kidnapped by a bunch of guys and they knocked you out. I'm guessing that they triggered something which has caused this memory loss."

"Memory loss?"

"Well, if you don't remember _us_, then yeah, I'd say you were suffering from Amnesia of some kind. Sam, could I speak to you outside for a second?"

"Wait," Bella started, "Something else is coming back. I remember a dark place, some kind of box. I was trapped. Was this where they had hidden me?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean smirked, "But give us a few moments, please."

She nodded and Dean beckoned Sam outside, making sure that they were well out of earshot.

"I think she's telling the truth, Dean. She really doesn't remember anything."

"But why doesn't she remember us? If Gordon went to her looking for us, then surely that was _after_ we had met!"

"I don't know, Dean. This kind of thing can happen, and maybe it's not just short-term."

"So what? She tried so hard to get herself out of that coffin that she bumped her head?"

"No, I don't think so, she doesn't seem to have any bruising. My best guess is that she was so terrified being stuck inside that coffin and the emotional Trauma caused her brain to go into shock. It just escalates from there."

"She can't remember _anything_ about us at all?"

"No, I don't think so, but isn't that a good thing?"

"How is Bella suffering from emotional trauma a good thing?" Dean asked, looking sincere.

"Well, we could take her to a hospital?" Sam suggested.

"Sam, in case you've forgotten, Bella and I are both dead, and you're wanted by the US Government."

"Okay, okay, what are we supposed to do then?"

"Well, I say we find somebody that knows her and pass her off into their care, that way we're not slowed down as we hit the road."

"But Dean, who would she know? I doubt she's got anybody, it's like she isolated herself from the whole world after she had her parents killed."

"Okay, well, we'll ask her, okay? If not, then we can take her on the road as we visit Bobby's pal and somewhere along the line we'll dump her and leave her."

"Dean!"

"All right, all right, we'll find a way then."

The two of them re-entered the motel room to see Bella sitting and staring at her reflection in a dark television screen.

She looked up at the two of them as they approached, and it seemed that now she'd gotten a rough idea of where she was, she had become more calm and confident.

"Bella," Dean began, "Have you got any family or friends that can take you in?"

"Not that I know of," Bella answered, "I usually go out on my own, after my parents death." She turned away, a small tear in her eye.

"Bella, how did your parents die?" Sam asked her, and she turned to him.  
"Why?" She asked suspiciously, "What do you know?"

Dean stepped forward, knowing that she remembered this detail, "We know what you did." He said simply.

"What?" she questioned, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You made a deal. You were given ten years to live, just so this demon would kill your parents for you."

Bella was almost in tears, "How do you know all this?"

"Because you told me," Dean said, "And I watched your parents car slide off the road, and it was no accident."

"How did you see it? There were no other cars around and it was twenty miles from the nearest town."

"You and I both watched it happen, _Abbey._ No more than a day ago."

"Okay," she said, standing, "Now I know you're both crazy. My parents died _fourteen_ years ago, and I was no where near there at the time. And how the hell did you know my real name was Abbey?"

"There are many things we know that you would be surprised about," Dean answered, "Now sit down, there are some things that you've missed, and we should probably fill in the blanks before you go out on your own, let us help you."

"Help? Help with what? I've got less than three weeks before my time runs out, and I've got to find this bitch and kill her before she kills me."

"Its too late," Dean said, "Because your time was up over a month ago now."

"What do you mean?"

"You stole from us a valuable weapon and tried to deal with Lilith for your soul. Only it didn't work, Lilith took the colt and told you that you would also have to kill Sammy here to stay alive."

She sat back down again, "It's coming back to me," she began, "I remember it now."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, "Bella, how did you find Lilith?" Sam asked.

She sighed, "I didn't, Lilith found _me_."

"Why would she come to you?" Dean asked.

"Because somehow she knew what I wanted. She came to me in a dream and told me to meet her at this bar when I woke up. I thought I was nuts but I went, and She then told me to track down Sam Winchester and kill him, and only then would she free my soul. But I don't understand! Why didn't I die? Did you kill her?"

"No, you did die." Dean started, "You were in hell for a few weeks before you came and found me after my deal was done."

"I was in _hell_?"

"Yes, and there were these _visions_ that we were thrown into, of something either in the past, present, future or something that hadn't even happened, just designed to screw with your head."

"And you saw my parents death?"

"_We_ did," he answered, and Sam was as shocked as Bella to hear this, as Dean hadn't told him much of hell at all, "Its true, we watched your parents car drive down the road towards us, and when a dark smoke entered the top of the car, it spun off the road and crashed."

"Oh my god," she said, holding her hand to her mouth, "I would have hated to see that."

"Well," Dean continued, "It wasn't long after that, we were walking along that same road when Sammy here used some old ritual to bring the two of us back, but you were trapped inside a coffin. That was the dark box you remember."

She sat in silence, her eyes wide with shock. Sam and Dean didn't blame her; she had just found out that she'd spent a three-week holiday in hell.

Dean broke the silence, "Are you able to go off on your own again? Or would you like to travel with us for a day or two until you're ready."

"Well, if it's no trouble, could I stay with you guys until tomorrow? I'm just still adjusting to the whole fact that I escaped from hell, and I no longer have to worry about dying. But that bitch who put me there is still going to pay."

"All right," Dean said slowly, "Well, Sammy and I are going into town later to visit a friend, are you okay to stay here on your own?"

She nodded and stretched her legs out, "I think I'll go for a walk, I feel really weak and I have to keep my blood pumping."

* * *

Sam and Dean hit the road in the Impala; though they left the Motel closed and Dean had painted Ansazi symbols on the door.

"What's Bella going to do while she waits for us to get back?" Sam asked, "I mean, we just locked her out of the motel room. And did we _really_ need to leave the knife? We could have used it!"

"Sam, It's not safe to be carrying it about with Demons looking for it everywhere. I mean, we don't even know whether we can trust this Cotalus guy. By the way, how far is it to the nearest town?"

"Did Bobby even _tell_ you where this guy lives?"

"No, all he said was that his friend lived in the area."

"Then how the hell are we meant to find him?"

"We'll just drive until we find something."

"Oh, great," Sam sat back and pulled a lever so that the seat slowly retracted down until he was lying flat.

"Well, get comfortable down there, why don't you, Sammy."

"Dean, we don't know how long we'll be driving for, so I figured I'd rest for a bit."

"Whatever, man."

They had been driving for no more than fifteen minutes when Dean slowed down and gestured to Sam to look out the window.

He looked upon a large sign sitting to the side of a dirt road, "Cotalus car repairs?"

"And that pentagram engraved above the name? I think we've found our man."

Without another word, they drove into the driveway and up to a small house with a large shed attached to the side. They could hear a loud noise from inside and Dean stopped the car.

The two of them got out and walked into the shed to see a large man standing at the edge of the shed with his backs to them, working a loud cold-saw on a large piece of metal.

He clicked a button and switched off the machine, "Well, well, well," Cotalus said, turning around to face them, "Sam and Dean Winchester, what an honour."

Dean laughed, "Honour? Come on, we're just a few regular hunters like yourself."

"Me? A hunter? Nah, not for a few years now, but I still keep in touch with others. I just forge weapons and such for the hunters who swing by every now and again.

"And as for regular? Guys, you don't know how famous you two are amongst other hunters. Some of the stories we've heard about you, wow. A few years back there were literally _hundreds_ of hunters like your father after that Azazel fellow, but he was just too difficult to track. But then you boys came along out of nowhere and within a few months you'd figured out a way to kill the bastard."

Dean looked pretty happy with himself, "Well, we learned from the best, didn't we."

"Yes, I knew your father quite well, he used to come to me when he needed a specific type of weapon. Not long before he died he came to me asking for a certain gun. He said it was old, and it would have had an inscription on the side in Latin. I forget what it said but I told him that I've never heard of such a weapon, and he left.

"You boys probably don't know this, but your father and I worked a few jobs together not five years back. A very skilled hunter he was, never making a mistake. He was very clean with his work."

"But our father liked to work alone, he always has. Why did he let _you _work with him?"

"Because he had no idea what these creatures were and had no experience with them at all. I'd been hunting for twice as long as he and had seen much more, so I knew how to handle them."

"Was that all?"

"Yeah, But anyway," he said, "Lets talk about why you're here. Bobby said that you wanted me to hook you up with a few weapons, is that right?"

"That would be great," Dean replied, "What will it cost us?"

"Cost you? Boys I ain't gonna be charging you! I forge these weapons to _help_ people, not to take away their money. Plus you're not the only ones who know how to run a credit-card scam. I have all the money I want and I don't need any more from you, thanks boys!"

"Thankyou," Sam started, "So what've you got for us?"

"Oh, you're going to love these I can assure you."

He took them around to the back of the shed and into one of the rooms extended off it. It was huge. And what was more, it was _packed_ full of weapons of all sorts.

"Over here boys," Cotalus beckoned them, "I've arranged a small stash of knives and guns for your possession."

Into a corner on a table there sat a large range of brilliant and sophisticated looking weapons, much more than Dean had expected. He was completely ecstatic at them and was caught speechless. He just stood there with his mouth agape, staring at the table in front of him.

"Wow Dean," Sam started, "I never knew you'd be so emotional about a few knives."

"Cotalus!" Dean exclaimed, "These weapons are _awesome_! _You_ made these?"

"Sure did, my good friend, and their all yours as long as you don't start hugging and crying on my shoulder in thankyou."

"No problem. Well, Sammy," he said, "I think we've put this off for long enough! Let's go find ourselves a hunt."

Sam laughed, "Sure, Dean."

They loaded the weapons into a few duffel bags and carried them out of the shed and emptied them into the back of the Impala.

"Now she's got a few toys to keep her company now," Dean laughed, "And you thought that he wasn't trustworthy."

"Dean," Sam scowled, "That was you."

"What?" he asked, "What are you talking about? I recall the conversation clearly, as well as a lot of wining from you about not wanting to bring the knife."

"Yeah, whatever Dean."

Dean turned to Cotalus, nodding in salute, "Thanks again, I'll be sure to swing by should I ever be in the area."

Cotalus laughed, "Yeah I really doubt that, your father said the same thing, and I never heard from him again."

"Yeah, he does that," Sam smiled, "See you."

"Bye," he waved, and as they reversed out, he re-entered the shed to continue his work.

When Sam and Dean arrived back at the motel, they instantly knew something was wrong. "Oh hell no!" Dean exclaimed as they ran up the staircase to find that the front window to their motel had been broken into.

Sam pulled out the key and opened the door, and instantly Dean ran over to where he'd hidden the knife, "Damn it!" he yelled, kicking the side of his bed.

"Did they take it?" Sam asked, as he walked over into their kitchen.

"Yes!" Dean looked furious, "I could _punch_ myself! By the way, where's Bella?"

"Dean?" Sam asked, "You should probably come and take a look at this."

He walked over to where Sam was standing and looked upon a note written roughly on the refrigerator. It was just a single message that read '_Cheers, and thanks for your help_.'

"I thought you said we could trust her?" Sam walked off and sat down on his bed.

"Well, she was much different back in hell! I could have sworn that she'd changed!"

"Oh, you're joking!" Sam exclaimed.

"What? I really thought she had!"

"No, not that. Dean, not only has she taken the knife, but out whole supply of salt and holy water."

"Oh well, we didn't have much of that anyway, and salt isn't exactly the rarest substance to find."

"Hang on, how did she get away without any money or a car?" Sam questioned.

"Well, knowing her she probably stole one of the cars parked at this motel, Sam. And we were gone more than forty minutes so who knows where she is now."

"So, she was _pretending_ to have amnesia?"

"Well, she's always been a good actor now, hasn't she? Not to mention having a lot of experience conning people too."

"Dean," Sam laughed, "Its almost funny that Bella seems to steal the most valuable and most powerful possessions we have, right at the time when we need them most."

"Yeah, she's a bitch like that."

"What I don't get is _why _she took it this time. I mean, what uses would she have for it?"

Dean thought about this for a minute, "Well, she _did _say that she wanted vengeance on Lilith, unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless she was working for those Demons. She _has _been with them for a good five or six hours, so what if they had planned the whole thing? What if she's handing one of the most powerful weapons of all time over to a _Demon_."

"Why would she do something like that?"

"Well," Dean began, "If something gave her the right offer, I doubt she would refuse. She's pretty greedy."

"Well, we're going to have to stop her."

"But how? We don't have any idea where she is!"

Sam sighed, "Well I don't think there's much point just sitting around here and hoping the knife will just come back of its own accord, so I say we get a move on."

"Good idea, Sammy," Dean nodded, "Lets hit the road."


	12. Chapter Eleven

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Chapter 11  
**

They weren't expecting her back so soon, but when she walked through that door holding up their prize, they instantly knew that they'd made the right decision in choosing her.

Bella approached the Demons, "Here, Xelas, I have brought you what it is you wanted."

"Bella!" Xelas looked shocked at the sight of her, "You're back awfully quick. I must commend you on this; you've done such a fine job."

"And my reward?"

"Yes, of course," he answered, "The reward."

He turned and walked over to a nearby table where he picked up a small bag and brought it back over, handing it to her.

"What is in there?" Bella asked.

"Everything you need, and more."

"Is that money?"

"Well, you've done such a fine job that I thought I'd throw in a few extra dollars. Sound good?"

"Yes, that will do fine," she replied, grabbing the bag.

She now held the knife out and placed it on the box to her right and began to walk away.

"Hang on a second, Ms Talbot."

Bella stopped in her tracks, and Xelas approached her once more, "Should we need you again, I have other… _items_, that you may be interested in."

"Well, if you ever find me again, I'll be sure to help you. Until then," she answered, "I have work to do."

He moved out of her way and she left, never looking back.

"Well, my faithful servants, it seems that fate has rewarded us at last! Behold," Xelas held the knife at arms length, "The legendary Knife of Amaethon himself!"

* * *

"Sam!" Dean called, "Sammy?"

Sam woke with a start, "Dean!"

"You were having another nightmare," he said, looking relieved, "You're _still_ having those?"

Sam rubbed his eyes and looked ahead of them. It was sometime around midday and they were still on the road after travelling for a long fourteen hours.

"Where are we?"

"We just passed the state line into Indiana. But you haven't answered my question. Since when do you still get nightmares?"

"Not since recently, but I know who Bella took the knife to."

"How? You're not still having those freak-show visions are you?"

"I think I am, Dean. I had one before of what Lilith was planning to do, back in Kansas with Bobby, and it came true. Somehow I'm still getting them."

"But we killed the Demon!" Dean exclaimed, "We killed Azazel! Weren't they supposed to stop after that?"

"I have no idea, Dean. But it's happening again, and I just saw Bella trade the knife to a demon called Xelas, but I have no idea what he gave her in return."

"Anything else?"

"Actually, yeah. When Bella had left he told his followers that it was the 'Legendary Knife of Amaethon'. What does that mean?"

"Well, maybe it's one of the original crusaders names?"

"Most likely, but I still couldn't work out where they were."

"Aagh, come on, Sammy! You've gotta give us something to work with!"

"So how long is it before we get to Colorado?"

"Well, at the speed we're going, probably not for another thirteen hours, so you might want to get comfortable. There's a long way to go yet."

"Do you want me to drive?"

"Nah, its fine for now," Dean replied, "I haven't driven my car for a while and now that we're driving cross-state again without Demons right behind us I figured that heres my chance!"

"Okay then, but remember that we've got to stop at- ouch!" he grabbed his forehead, "My head!"

"What is it?"

"It feels like it's burning!" Sam yelled.

"Sammy?" Dean shook him, "Sammy!"

After a blinding flash of white light, a new vision met his eyes.

Xelas played with the knife, tossing it up and catching it, thrilled to finally have the weapon in his possession.

"Xelas," one of the lesser Demons called, "When are we taking off? Lucifer will be waiting for us."

"Oh, we'll be leaving as soon as night falls. Until then we'll stay hauled up here, keeping safe. Those Winchesters will come looking for the knife, and they're not to be underestimated."

Xelas sat in silence for more than ten minutes; completely enthralled with the knife, when suddenly he heard a loud noise and a man entered the room. The demons around him smirked and allowed him to pass. He approached Xelas with a large manchette in his hands.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Xelas questioned, "Boys, take him away, why would you even let him through? Boys?"

They didn't move an inch. They just stood there watching. "What is your name? And why are you here?" Xelas demanded from him.

"My name is Mathew Walker, and I'm here to take back what's rightfully mine."

And with those words he swung the machete high in the air and brought it down on the Demons' neck, instantly beheading the enemy.

Taking the knife for himself, Mathew left the room and called out to the Demons, "Are you coming or what? We've got some searching to do."

The demons nodded and followed after him as he left.

* * *

For the second time in less than ten minutes, Sam awoke, breathing deeply.

"Sammy! Oh thank _god_ you're awake. That was just creepy. So what did you see?"

"I have some relatively good and some relatively bad news, Dean."

"I'll take the bad first. Always the bad first."

"Well, the knife is no longer in the possession of Xelas, in fact Xelas is dead, betrayed by his own army of demons."

"Why would they turn against their leader?"

"Well, Dean. It seems they have a new leader, he showed up and decapitated Xelas."

"But that wouldn't kill him, beheading a Demon would only kill the body he inhabits, not the demon himself. So who was he?"

"A man named Mathew Walker."

Dean sat up quickly, "Mathew Walker?" he asked, "And he was the one who stole the knife?"

"Yep."

"So we were right, he _has_ got one of the weapons, and now he's out searching for the others. Which means that he'll be going after Lilith next."

"But if he gets himself killed then Lilith will have all _three_ of them, which would ruin our plan to kill Lucifer."

"Speaking of Lucifer, where the hell is he? Shouldn't he be destroying homes and killing by now? We haven't heard a single thing!"

"I don't know, Dean. It's like the eye of the hurricane. I have a feeling that we're going to be seeing a lot more in the time to come."

"Well there's a comforting thought."

Sam clutched at his head, "Aagh! Dean, this headache is killing me!"

"What is it? Another vision?"

"No, it's more like a side-effect, but it hurts like hell."

"So, did Mathew say where he was?" Dean asked, "or where he was going?"

"No, but I think we should start in Colorado, that's where Lilith wanted me to go."

Dean slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road, getting out of the car, walking around and pushing Sam into the drivers seat.

"What's this?"

"You drive for a while," Dean said, stepping into the passenger seat, "It'll help keep your mind off that headache. Plus I'm a little tired myself."

"Sure, okay then."

He disengaged the handbrake and took off, while Dean laid his seat back and closed his eyes.

* * *

Deans' phone began to ring, but he was too deep in his sleep to notice, so while he kept the car moving straight, Sam leaned over and searched his brothers pockets.

He pulled it out, flipped it open and hit the little green answer button.

"Hello?"

"_Sam, is that you?"_

"Jo!"

"_Sam, I'm sorry to hear of Deans death, but this is really important and I need to talk to you."_

Sam realised in that second that she didn't know that Dean was still alive. She seemed almost in tears just mentioning him.

"Jo, where are you?"

_"I'm at my bar in Oklahoma, how far away are you?"_

"Not far, maybe half an hour from the state line bordering Missouri, so you can count on us arriving there in the next few hours."

_"Us? Who's with you?"_

"Oh, nobody special. Just an old friend that you might want to meet."

_"Okay, Sam, but this is really important so please don't bring anyone that we can't completely trust."_

"Don't worry about that. Talk to you soon."

_"Bye, Sam."_

Sam hung up the call and threw it onto Dean's chest, who coughed once and went back to sleep.

What could be so important that Jo would need to call _him_? And since when would she choose to speak to them after what she'd found out about her father?

* * *

"Dean, wake up."

"What is it? Breakfast?"

"No, better."

"Better than breakfast?"

"Jo called."

Dean sat up _phenomenally _quickly, almost throwing his head through the front windscreen, "Jo?" Suddenly he was wide-awake, "What did she want?"

"I don't know Dean, but she said it was urgent."

"Well, where is she?"

"Down at her bar in Oklahoma."

"Okay then, how far to Oklahoma?"

"Actually, we crossed the boarder almost an hour ago," Sam replied, " We should be coming into the town of Quinton where her bar is any minute now."

Dean didn't know whether he should be happy about this or not. The last time he had seen Jo he had walked out on her, and for all he knew she didn't even know he was still alive.

"Did she say anything about me, Sammy?"

"Well, she doesn't know that you were brought back, because she gave condolences for your death so obviously she has no idea."

"Oh great! So how do you think she's going to react when she sees somebody that she believed was dead walk through the door?"

"Well, I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"

"Oh, great."

They rounded a corner and slowed down to find themselves staring up at the large road-side bar.

"You know, this place reminds me a lot of the roadhouse that it's creepy."

A large "Closed" sign had been placed out the front, "Hey Sammy, I think they're closed. Maybe we should come back tomorrow."

"Yeah, sure Dean, lets do that," he replied, continuing walking.

"I'm just saying, Sam, that I don't think she'll be real happy to see me."

"Whys that?"

"Because," Dean sighed, "Because I turned her down, not long before I died. She called me a few weeks ago and we talked for over an hour. But I couldn't give her what she wanted, and I hung up."

"Ouch."

"Yep. Trust me, this won't be the fairytale reunion you expected."

Sam opened the door to the bar and they stepped inside, instantly stopping as they saw the mess that had been made. "Yeah, I don't think it will be either."

"Oh my god," Dean whispered as he looked through into the back rooms.

"Jo!" Dean yelled, "Jo, are you there?"

"Dean, over here!" Sam called, and Dean ran over to see what he was looking at.

"Blood. It looks like somebody got into a fight."

Dean saw a strange substance to the right of where Sam was pointing and pinched it with his fingers. "Sulphur," he muttered, "A demon has been here."

"Oh that's just great!" Dean exclaimed, "Why does this always happen? Somebody tells us there's something important, but _no_, it has to be said in person. But when we get there there's always nobody there. They're all gone. Or in Ash's case, burned to death."

They found traces of blood splattered everywhere, and a much larger area in the place it was obvious that the struggle had occurred.

"Sammy, come check this out."

Sam walked over, as Dean bent over a puddle of blood on the floor. "I think Jo was trying to tell us something."

It was very clear. On the floor, written in her own blood Jo had sent them a message: two letters reading-

"_M.W_?" Sam questioned, "Does that mean-?"

"Mathew Walker? Yeah, that's what I'm assuming."

"Great, just great. Not only has he got two Crusaders Knives, but he's kidnapped Jo too. This is terrible."

"Yeah," Dean replied, "But the good news is that we only have to look in one place, and its pretty good luck that we know _where_ that place is."

"Idaho Springs, Colorado."

"Damn straight," Dean said, "So I say we get going."

"Give me a few more minutes."

* * *

"Okay, Sam, so Idaho Springs, how far is that?"

"I'm not sure exactly but I'd say it'll take us about three or four hours to drive there."

"Brilliant, for all we know he'll be gone by the time we get there. How could this day possibly get any worse?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" Dean mocked, "Well, first we almost get killed saving Bella from a bunch of psycho demons, and then she turns against us and steals the knife. Not to mention handing it over to demons herself, who are then killed and the knife is handed over to Mathew Walker, _another_ man we're trying to hunt.

"_Then _we get a call from Jo who says she has something important to show, but it seems that Walker has gotten to her first. Plus there's the fact that we don't know for sure that he's even in the place that we're going to look for him in!"

"Wow, you seem to be having a pretty rough day."

"You're damn right I'm having a rough day!" He exclaimed, "Oh _crap_!"

Sam looked up at this and held on tight as Dean slammed on the breaks, pulling the car to a stop before a body in the middle of the road.

They both got out of the car and walked around to the body. By what she was wearing Sam recognised her immediately, and Dean rolled her over, "Bella?"

Bella stirred and looked up at them, "Ouch, my head."

"What do you want from us this time?" Dean asked, "I'm not going to fall for your tricks again. I could throttle you where you lay, but I know Sammy here would stop me before I could, lucky you."

"What are you doing here, Bella?" Sam asked, a cold look etched into the harsh lines of his face.

"I don't know, the last thing I remember is being confronted by a dark man. I couldn't see his face because it all went so quickly. When he was finished he must have left me out here on the road."

"Bella, why did you steal the knife?"

"Because the demons said they would pay me well for it."

"Pay you with what?"

"Never you mind."

Sam's expression eased and he bent down, placing his right hand on her shoulder. Instantly she jumped backwards as if his hand had burned her.

She looked over at where he had laid his hand, "What did you do?"

Sam showed his hand, it was wet; Holy water.

"Dean, that's not Bella!"

Dean didn't need telling twice; in an instant he pulled a rock-salt gun from his coat pocket and aimed it at Bella. She stood up and her eyes turned black.

"How did you get into our apartment with Ansazi symbols painted on the door?" Sam demanded.

"Oh, that wasn't me, I haven't been in her _that _long. I'm terribly sorry to tell you that it was _actually_ her when she broke in and stole that accursed knife of yours. But now _I'm_ on the search for it, and you boys know who has it, don't you?"

"No, actually we don't, that's what we're looking for."

"_Liars."_ Her voice was cold and harsh.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I think I am B2."

"Dean, now's no time for jokes!"

Sam began to walk around her, Dean staying put with the gun held at her face.

"What are you going to do, Dean? Shoot me? I'm afraid that it wont kill me, it will only hurt Bella here."

"So what? Do you think we care about _her?"_

"Of course not, but I know that you wouldn't _kill _her, would you now?"

"Its a thought," Dean muttered, "Lady, you don't know how much hell this girl has put us through, I wish I could put a bullet through her skull right now, but there are some things that are higher on my 'to do' list at the moment."

"What do you want?" Sam asked.

"Oh, nothing much, just a little information from you boys, and you're going to give it to me, or…"

"Or what?"

" Or I'll personally slaughter your good friends Ellen and Jo in their sleeps," Dean looked horrified, "No, I'm not bluffing."

"You know," Dean started, "I would really _love_ to stay and chat, but I'm afraid that we're in a bit of a hurry, so you must excuse me for doing this."

He instantly threw himself at the demon and pinned her to the ground, but her strength was overwhelming and Dean had a real hard time keeping her down. "Sam! Get the paint!"

She fought back and Dean pushed as hard as he could, before letting his right hand go and reaching for the rock-salt gun, pointing it at her head.

"Dean," she hissed, "Rock salt won't kill me."

"Oh I know, but it'll hurt like hell."

"You know nothing of hell, Dean Winchester."

"Oh really? Because I seem to recall spending a few days in there myself not too long ago, so I think I get the gist of it."

"A few days," She laughed, "Oh don't make me laugh. I endured _thousands_ of years trapped inside that hole, but the first six months or so was nothing. Absolutely painless. All they do for the whole time is try and screw with your mind by showing you those visions, the first steps they make you take to becoming what you would eventually have become. After that is where the _true_ torture begins."

"Whatever," Dean stood up, leaving her on the ground, "Don't you move an inch or I'll shoot."

She lay there hissing at him, and he jumped backwards behind the symbols that Sam had painted, "Good work, Sammy! Ansazi symbols," Dean nodded, "That should keep her there for a few days as we head off in the other direction. It was nice catching up with you again, honey!"

The demon looked furious. Sam and Dean got into the Impala and Dean started the engine. "Oh, how it would be so fun to just drive right at her now."

"No, Dean, that would only hurt Bella."

"She deserves it."

"Actually, I'm not so sure she does."

"What do you mean, Sammy?"

"These items she has been collecting from the demons, I think there's more to them than we can know."

"Well, I guess we'll find out somewhere along the track. Until then," Dean revved the engine, "We're off to Idaho Springs."

* * *

**Yeah, shutup =P Just 'cause this writing is terrible...**

* * *


	13. Chapter Twelve

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Chapter 12**

"Okay, so where do we start looking?" Dean asked, stopping outside a busy local bar in Idaho Springs.

"Well, I guess we should just ask around."

"Oh great. This is gonna be fun."

They opened the car doors and walked inside, and when they saw the amount of people inside, they knew that it would be extremely unlikely that anyone would remember the name of this particular person they were searching for.

"Well," Dean patted Sam on the shoulder, "I'm going to go and ask the bar tender over there a few questions, and you go across the street and check the local directories."

"You think he actually _lives_ here?"

"Well, we'll find out where he's staying at least. If he's here we _have_ to find him."

Dean pushed through the crowd and up to the bar, sitting himself in one of the stools up front as Sam exited and crossed the street to begin a blind search through the town directories.

A mid-aged man approached Dean from behind the counter, "Can I get you something?"

"Just one beer, thanks."

"Sure, here you go."

"Thanks. Hey," Dean began, "Have you ever heard of a man named Mathew Walker?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing really, he's an old friend of mine. My brother and I were travelling through the town so we thought we'd catch up with the old guy."

"Sorry, but I've never heard of-"

"Dean?" A voice called, "Dean is that you?"

A woman of the same age entered through the back doors and Dean was shocked to see who it was.

"Ellen?"

"Oh my god! _Dean_! What happened? Last I heard you'd been dragged off by hell-hounds!"

"Yeah well, I'm back thanks to Sammy."

"That's great to hear. Where is Sam, anyway?"

"Oh, he's over the road, searching through local phone books, but anyway," he stopped, "What are you doing here!"

"Oh well, I figured since the roadhouse was burnt down and I was put out of business, I'd better pick myself up. And the only thing I've ever been any good at was serving drinks, so I thought I'd settle in somewhere and get myself a job."

"Ah, well _good_ for you, Ellen!"

"Yeah, though I miss Jo, and I haven't heard from her for a while now. Have you seen her?"

"Actually, that's half the reason why we're in –"

"Ellen!" the male tender called, "Could you take care of the bar for me, I'm going out for a minute."

"Sure thing, Walter! Sorry, give me a second, Dean."

"No problem."

She went out the back and brought in a few bottles of alcohol, serving them to a few guys waiting at the counter, before she came back to Dean.

"How does it feel, working _with_ other people?" Dean asked.

"Oh, well this was the only place that was willing to take me in, everywhere else was full. But how I would _love_ to still have the roadhouse. It was home to me, had been for a very long time. And to have it burn down like that, it breaks my heart."

"I'm sorry, Ellen. Actually," Dean started slowly, "Have you ever thought about re-building the road-house?"

"I have," she nodded, "But I've never been able to get the manpower to do it. It's a shame. But anyway, what was this about Jo?"

Dean sighed, "I have some bad news, Ellen."

"Oh no, what's happened?"

"Its Jo, she's been taken."

"By what?"

"Actually, it's not a _what_ this time, it's a who."

"Oh my god, how do you know about this?"

"Jo called Sam, and told him that there was something important that she had to tell him. We went to her bar in Oklahoma, but it was a complete mess and she wasn't there when we arrived. But she left us a small message. She was trying to tell us who had taken her."

"Oh my god, that's terrible! We must find her! If anything happens to her… I don't know how I could live with that!"

"Well that's why we're in town. We're looking for her capturer. Ellen," Dean asked, "Have you ever heard of a man named Mathew Walker?"

"Actually, yes. He used to stop by the roadhouse every few months. But he kept to himself, always in a corner searching through his notes, as many hunters did when they passed through."

"Well, he's also got something of great value to us, and we must find it quickly."

"Why, what's happened?"

"There's not much time to explain. Have you seen him around here lately?"

"No, I-"

A high-pitched scream pierced their ears, and instantly Dean left Ellen and sprinted through the doors to see Sam standing over a young girls' body, a stab wound in her chest emitting blood, a hatred etched into Sams face.

"Sam?" Dean questioned, bending down to check the wound, and placing two fingers on the side of her neck, checking for a pulse.

She was dead.

"What happened?"

"She was a demon, Dean. I had to take care of her."

Dean looked at Sam strangely, there was something highly suspicious about this, "How do you know?"

"She snuck up on me, and I saw her eyes, they were black, demon black."

Dean looked down at the body, "But Sam, that knife wouldn't have killed a demon."

"Well, it did," Sam replied, "She's dead, you see?"

"Yeah I can see that."

"Do you really think I'd kill an innocent girl?"

Dean sighed, placing a hand on Sams' shoulder, "Sam, take the car and check us into the closest hotel. I'll meet up with you there."

Sam nodded and took off, many people staring in his direction as he walked. Dean re-entered the bar as many people had abandoned their drinks to take a look at the commotion outside.

"What was all that?" Ellen asked him curiously as he sat down again.

"I have no idea, but according to Sam, that girl outside was a demon, and he stuck a knife in her."

"In a public place? That's not like Sam."

"I know, it's like he was a completely different person. But he wasn't possessed. Not only did he have those amulets that Bobby gave us last time he was taken, but I touched him with a hand wet with holy water. It was actually Sam."

"Has he been acting like that lately? Because if you remember, your father warned you that something like this might happen."

"Yes, I know. Well, actually," Dean hushed his voice, "Those visions have returned, just like when yellow-eyes was still breathing."

"But you killed him! Yellow-eyes is dead!"

"I know, I don't get it either. When Dad said those things about Sammy, I was sure that he meant what the demon had 'planned' for Sam and those other children."

"You should keep a closer eye on him, Dean. He may be dangerous."

"Trust me, Ellen, I won't let him out of my sight."

"Where's he taken off to?" She asked.

"I sent him to check us into the nearest hotel. Where would that be?"

"Well, there's the one a few blocks up that I used to stay, it's the only one in the area. It's right next to my apartment."

"Wow, Ellen, it's so strange to see you on the streets."

"Yeah..." She replied, "I really miss the road-house. It meant everything to me."

Dean bowed his head and thought for a moment, "Ellen," he said sincerely, "When we finish this job, I swear to you that the first thing we'll be doing is re-building the roadhouse for you."

"Oh, Dean! You really don't have to do that," she said, but he could see in her eyes that she greatly desired this.

"No, Ellen. I insist. Re-building the roadhouse for you would be a great honour. You've done a lot for our family, and this is the way we're going to repay it to you."

She almost had tears in her eyes, "I can't thank you enough. Now go on, you must go check up on your brother. But Dean," she held him back, "Be careful."

"Thanks, Ellen."

Dean followed the street up two blocks until he came to a large building, which he knew at first sight that this was the motel that Ellen had told him about. He looked around for the Impala but couldn't see it. _There must be a car-park around the back or something_, he thought.

He walked in the doors, and up to the front counter, "Hey, my brother just came by here, what room is he in?"

"I'm sorry, but nobody has come through here all night. You must be mistaken."

Dean didn't say another word, but he ran through the doors and looked up and down the streets. _Where the hell had he gone! This isn't a good sign._

He pulled out his mobile and dialled Sams' mobile number. _"Sorry, this mobile service is unavailable. The subject you are trying to call either does not exist or is switched off."_

Sam doesn't turn his phone off, especially when he's alone. Dean knew that something was wrong. He dialled another phone and waited for the dial tone.

"_Hello?"_

"Bobby!"

"_Dean? What is it?"_

"Bobby, it's Sam, he's missing."

"_Missing? Why, what's happened?"_

"I don't know, Bobby, but I found him outside standing over a dead body. He claimed it was a demon, but I don't know."

_"Dean, there's nothing you can do at the moment. Was he possessed did you know?"_

"No, no he wasn't, and that's why I'm so afraid."

_"Dean, find somewhere to stay and wait. If he doesn't come back I'll be down there as soon as I can."_

"Thanks Bobby."

_"Anytime, Dean. Call me if you see him."_

Dean hung up, looking up the street again before entering the motel again and asking the front counter for a room. He payed the money and checked into room fourteen. After he dumped his things he sat on his bed and buried his face in his hands.

"Come on, Sammy," he whispered to himself, "Where are you?"

He lay down and stared at the ceiling, breathing deeply. He prayed to the gods that Sam was okay, and that what he feared most was not coming true.

It was no more than ten minutes before Dean heard the loud grumble of the Impala appear outside, and he sprinted down the stairs to see Sam walk through the motel doors, a grave expression on his face.

"Sammy! Where've you been?"

Sam looked at him, "I just went for a drive," he said, "I thought you would be a while."

Dean looked him up and down and said, "Okay," before leading him up to the room.

"What has come over you lately?" Dean asked, "What was with that girl outside the bar? You don't attack someone with a thousand witnesses! We already have the feds on our tail and we didn't need this."

"Well, sorry, but I saw her and freaked out. It could have been much worse, Dean."

"Worse? What's worse than the whole town thinking there's a murderer amongst them now? It most likely drew Walkers' attention, and if he finds out that we're in town looking for him that won't be a good thing. That's if he's here at all."

"Well, Dean. Let's put this behind us and keep looking for him. Who knows what he's doing to Jo at this moment."

"Okay, we will. But lets get some rest. In the meantime, excuse me because I've got to make a phone call."

He stood up and walked into the bathroom, pulling out his mobile and dialling Bobby's phone again.

_"Dean? That was quick."_

"He's back, Bobby. But there is definitely something different about him. I don't know what it is, but there is _something_ I assure you."

_"Has he still got those amulets I gave you two?"_

"Yeah, he does, but I told you before, I don't think that it's a demon."

_"Then what the hell is it?"_

"I don't know, Bobby. But it's something big, that much I do know."

_"Remember what your father told you?"_

"Yes! Why does everybody keep bringing that up! Yes, dad warned me that if something like this happened that Sam would have to die. Its like you're all just waiting to see if I will actually do it!"

_"But that's the thing, Dean. Will you?"_

Dean stood in silence. "I don't know, Bobby. I don't think I could."

_"Well that's a good thing. Killing your own family isn't exactly something to brag about being able to do. But in the end, you may have no choice."_

"Bobby, I won't kill Sam. I just can't," Dean sighed, "I need a favour."

"_Sure, what is it?"_

"First, where are you?"

_"Well, I'm in Missouri, I just picked up my car, and I'm headed to Wyoming."_

"You reckon you could stop by Idaho Springs on your way?"

_"Okay, sure thing. Just watch yourself Dean."_

"I will Bobby. Thanks again."

_"That's what I'm here for."_

_"Sam. I have a job for you."_

It was a deep, booming voice, echoing through his mind.

_"I've been waiting for you for a long time. So you're going to do something for me."_

"What is it?"

He whispered something so soft that even Sam could barely hear him, but Sam gasped when he heard it.

_"That's right," _the voice said, _"And when you do that, I want you to come to me. You know where I'll be."_

"I won't let you down."

_"Good."_

When morning came and Dean woke up, he turned quickly to make sure that Sam was still there, and a wave of relief swept over him as he saw his brother sleeping comfortably in his bed.

"Sammy," he called, "Wake up."

Sam rolled over and opened his eyes, "Already?"

"Damn right already, we've got some searching to do."

"Come on, Dean. There's no way we're going to find him here, and we don't even _know _that he's in the damn town!"

"Yes, of course we know. Lucifer said that this is where he is, and that's where he's gonna be."

"But that was in the future, Dean. You saw it days before Lucifer was even unleashed! It's not going to happen until -"

"Until what?" Dean asked, "Until you turn against your family and go dark side?"

"You know I would never do that, Dean."

"How do I know that? How do _you _know that? What if you couldn't control it? What if it took you over and you were helpless to stop it?"

Sam shook his head and reached down, grabbing his bag. Turning to Dean he asked, "Come on, are we going to find this guy or what?"

He walked out the door and Dean watched him until he was out of sight. There was something very strange going on here, and he knew it.

Dean collected his things, shoved them in a bag and followed Sam out of the room, tossing the keys to the front desk without a word on his way out.

He got into the car with Sam and drove off, "So, where to first?"

"Well, we should still check the town for Walker, he probably _is_ here, just keeping quiet."

"How the hell are we supposed to find him then?"

"We wait," Sam answered simply.

"Oh brilliant, another stake-out?"

"Nah, he probably wouldn't show up anyway. But there's another bar on the other side of town, and it's much less crowded than the first. Maybe we should check it out, the owners would certainly know if he'd been there or not."

"Good thinking, Sammy."

It was a small town, so it didn't take them long to get there. Closing the car doors they walked into the bar. There were very few people inside, only a few guys chatting in one corner, and a couple of loners scattered about. They walked up to the bar, "Hey," Dean smiled, "I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam, we're with the CPS, Child Protective Service, and we'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Sorry, _Dean. _But you've got to buy a drink if you want a seat at the bar."

Dean laughed, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Yeah, okay, just two beers thanks."

The barman reached underneath the counter and pulled up two bottles, handing one to the two of them. Dean pulled the cap from his and began drinking; Sam placed his on the counter and didn't touch it.

"So, you wanted to ask me something?"

"Yes," Sam replied, "Have you seen a man named Mathew Walker around here recently?"

"Actually yes, I have. He comes through every now and again. It was naught two weeks ago that I saw him last. Haven't heard from him since. Nice fellow though, likes a bit of friendly conversation. Why are you looking for him, is he in some kind of trouble?"

"Maybe," Dean answered, "But we're just following a few things up. Chances are he'll be let go without any fuss."

"Good, because he's not a bad man."

"Yeah, well we'll see about that," Dean muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Dean answered, handing him a small card, "Thanks for your time, and call us if you see him."

"Sure thing."

Sam and Dean exited the bar, Dean taking a last swig from his bottle before throwing it into the bin. "So what to we do now? The man hasn't been seen for two weeks, he's probably hiding."

Sam was looking through an old map of Idaho Springs, and looked down from it, "Well, let's drive around for a bit, see the town."

"See the town? What are you gay?"

"Why not?"

"Nothing. Fine, we'll drive around if that's really what you want to do."

"I was just thinking, maybe we should check it out, if there are any shady places about we'll know where to look should the time come."

"Yeah, all right. But not for long, there are a few other things that I'd like to do today."

"Well, we had better be prepared, just in case," Sam replied, pushing his right hand down into his pocket and drawing a handgun, resting it at his side so that Dean couldn't see it.

"So, where do you want to go?"

"Well, I've got an idea. Turn a right here, Dean," Sam answered, tracing his finger along the map.

"Okay, now another right, and then the second left."

Dean followed the instructions, but a prickling feeling spread up his spine. "Okay, follow this to the end and turn left."

Dean followed the road to the end, but there was no turn-off, "Sam, what-"

"Stop the car, Dean," Sam ordered, cocking the gun and holding it towards Dean, "Get out."

"Sammy, Come on, what the hell are you doing? You're not going to shoot me, are you?"

"I said get out!"

"All right!" Dean answered, placing his hands in the air and opening the door, "Take it easy!"

Sam opened his door and pulled himself out, keeping his eyes fixed on Dean and the gun at his chest, "Don't move."

There was a rasp in his voice that Dean noticed as Sam ordered him around. It just _couldn't_ be Sam. He _wouldn't_ do this.

Instinctively, Dean reached for his gun, but Sam was expecting it.

A loud gunshot filled the cold air with the taste of blood, and Dean dropped to the his knees supporting a large wound in his chest, losing torrents of blood by the second.

With one last, horrified look at his brother, Dean fell forward onto the ground, motionless.

Sam smiled and stepped over the body, pulling open the Impala door and stepping in. He turned the and took off, leaving Deans' body to rot in the streets of Idaho Springs.

* * *

**Thanks again for reading. ^_^**


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Chapter 13**

Dean lay on the side of the street in Idaho Springs; his feint breathing was the only sign that he still lived. The bullet had not pierced his heart, but another inch and he would have been waving goodbye to this world once more.

He was barely conscious, unable to move an inch, tears spilling from his eyes as he remembered those last awful moments. He struggled to keep himself awake, but his head felt heavy, and soon he couldn't resist it anymore. His last thought before he slipped into a heavenly unconsciousness was a silent prayer that whatever had come over his brother could be stopped before it was too late.

Dean lay on the ground for more than four hours before he was found. His body was picked up, carefully placed into the back seat of an old truck and taken away.

* * *

He didn't expect to wake up again. But he felt the life flow back into his limbs, and before long Dean sat up, staring into the smiling face of Bobby, who held up a small bullet with a pair of tweezers as a mark of his latest success.

Dean clutched at his chest, where Bobby had carefully laid a small bandage over his wound. It hurt like hell, but he was thankful for what Bobby had done.

"You saved my life, Bobby. I would hug you, but I'm not really the hugging kind of guy."

Bobby laughed, and then his tone became very serious, "Dean, this job isn't done yet, and we have some work to do."

"Oh crap!" Dean sat up quickly, wincing at the pain, "How long have I been out for?"

Bobby thought for a second, "Well, it was about three hours now since I picked you up, but I have no idea how long it had been since you were shot. I'm assuming it was Sam?"

"Yes, Bobby. But it wasn't _him, _exactly. It just couldn't be, but I'm at a loss to know what it really is."

"Well, first things first, we have to find your brother and fix this."

Dean stared at him, "Bobby, we're not going to kill Sam."

He sighed, "I know that, but we have to find him anyway, so that we can figure out a way to reverse the damage. But-"

"But what?" Dean asked quickly, "Oh how I hate the word 'but'!"

"But it may already be too late."

Dean looked tearful, "Don't say that, Bobby. There has to be a way, there just _has_ to be."

Bobby looked away, and Dean glimpsed the room around him for the first time. "Where are we?" he asked.

It was a small barn of some kind, but the inside looked as if it had been refurnished to resemble something like a home.

"My brother," Bobby replied, "He was also a hunter, and he used to live here. But after his death it has been empty, though I use it every now and again. It's in the middle of nowhere, so nobody will bother us here."

"How did he die?"

"Never mind stories now! We've got work to do!"

"Okay, I'm getting up. Let's go."

"Dean, we don't know where he is! And I asked around, but nobody saw him leave town."

Dean thought for a minute, and then in a hush voice he whispered, "I know where he is."

Bobby looked questioning, and Dean continued, "The vision that I had in hell, this is what it means. The job that Sam was told to do was kill me, and he's going to be sent on to capture Walker now too."

"Well, the question is, do we wait for Sam to come back or go after him to Kansas?"

Dean stood up and attempted to walk. The pain was terrible, but it slowly eased as he limped over to the door. By the position of the sun, it was barely the afternoon, but they still had little time to drive all the way to Wyoming and find Sam."

"We go after him. When I had the vision, it was dark when he arrived at the graveyard. So I say we start driving, and hopefully we can stop him before he gets there."

"Good idea, are you sure you don't want to rest first?"

"Bobby, I've been doing this kind of thing for years, I know how to withstand a little bit of pain!"

"Dean," He looked sincere, "You were just shot, and that isn't just a 'little bit of pain'."

"Well, a little bit of pain is nothing when you compare it to the thought of Sam joining forces with Satan."

"Okay, Dean. Lets go."

They exited the doors, and Bobby didn't even bother locking up. He obviously either didn't have anything worth protecting in there, or thought that nobody would ever find them. Dean looked around, and there were just green fields everywhere. They really _were_ hidden from anybody's view.

"Dean, were there any distinct signs? You know, anything that you could visibly tell that was different about Sam?"

Dean thought for a second, "Well, his expression was different, it was almost as if it caused him pain to be evil."

They opened the truck doors and Bobby drove. They set off; along the extremely long driveway that ran all the way back to the outskirts of Idaho Springs.

They turned onto the main road and Dean thought of something worth mentioning to him, "Bobby, I saw Ellen in that bar in town."

Bobby didn't look surprised, "Yeah, She told me that day a year ago that she would have to start a new life, and she used to have family in Idaho Springs, so I assumed that's where she would set off to."

"Well, there's another thing. I swore to her that I would help her rebuild the roadhouse when we're done with Lucifer, and she was almost in tears. But I'm going to need help with that, Bobby. Do you reckon we could get a few guys to join in?"

"Sure, Dean. Actually I know a few people with some experience in building, and I'm sure that it will be no problem."

"Bobby, you seem to know everyone," Dean laughed.

"Well, I've been all across America hunting these strange creatures for twenty-five years. Doing that for so long you meet hundreds of different people, saving lives along the way. Sometimes the day you saved _their_ life may come in useful when you're in need of what they have to offer."

"Yeah, that's true."

They drove across the wide country land of Colorado, staring out the windows at the wide fields and property's that sped past, and Dean caught a small glimpse of farmers driving large tractors and other vehicles, tending to their fields.

At this sight he began to wonder what it was like to be completely blinded, utterly oblivious to the creatures that emerged from the darkness, the horrors of the night.

Bobby broke the silence, "So Dean, you called me shortly about Bela's disappearance and said that she took the knife, but I'm curious at what the full story is."

"Well, Bobby, there isn't that much to tell. We went to see your man Cotalus and when we got back she was gone, the knife too. But we know that she sold it to a demon named Xelas for some items he possessed. But then this Mathew Walker guy came along and beheaded the demon."

"But that wouldn't have killed it, how...?"

"I know, I don't get it either."

"Actually, I think I know," Bobby said slowly, "Yes, It must be, he did have one, didn't he."

"What?"

"These knives, they don't all look exactly the same, Dean. I don't know a lot about their lore, but I'm sure that when I _did_ read it, there was something about the third knife being of abnormal length. Well, usually the only way of telling them apart from regular knives is their shape and the markings engraves on the sides, but this one was altogether different from the knives itself."

"But it was as large as a machete!" Dean exclaimed, "You're telling me that the sword he beheaded Xelas with was one of the Crusaders weapons we're looking for? I thought you said that they were all knives!"

"Actually, I said that there were three crusaders weapons, and since Sams' and Liliths' were both knives, that's just what you assumed."

"Okay, well why is the last one a sword if the other two are knives?" Dean asked.

"Well, the Crusaders lore said that the leader of the three, Ollathair, who the other two looked up to as their leader forged the most superior weapon of the three, but Amaethon and Palladium both held knives. They took on Lucifer with two knives and a _sword_ to take him down."

Dean looked slightly surprised, "You know their names too?"

"Sure, it's all in the legend."

"Damn it I wish that Sam still had his laptop, it could have come in very useful in a time like this."

"Oh well, you'll have to do without for now, plus it wouldn't come in much use at the moment, as Sam isn't even _here_ at the moment._"_

"Bobby," Dean started, "I'm curious, how _did_ you find me down there?"

Bobby laughed, "Don't you remember when your father got you that mobile? He set a GPS tracker on the phone so that he could find you at anytime. Wherever he went, whatever you did, he knew _exactly_ where you were. It was his way of watching you while he wasn't with you. Plus it's how he stayed out of your way and found you when he needed you."

"But why do you have it?"

"I found it with the rest of his belongings in his truck, and thought that it might come in useful. Which, eventually, it did."

"Wow, I can't thank you enough Bobby. Another hour down there and I'd be gone as quickly as I'd come back."

Bobby laughed, "Well we can't have that now, can we. Your brother needs you."

Dean laughed, "Yeah, he sure knows how to show it," he answered, holding his palm on the wound in his chest.

"It's my responsibility, Bobby. I _must_ save him from this evil, and I won't rest until I have." Dean was fired up, he knew what he had to do and he intended to do it.

"That's the spirit," Bobby muttered.

* * *

It was growing dark as they arrived in Wyoming, less than a twenty minutes drive to the train-tracks that bordered Lucifers lair.

"So," Bobby turned to Dean, "Its your decision. Do we wait? Or do we go in after Sam?"

"I don't think it will be safe going after Sam. If you don't remember, Lucifer is hiding out in that graveyard, guarding the Devils Gates. I don't think it would be safe for us, or Sam, if we followed him."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

When they arrived at the railway tracks, Bobby stopped the car and Dean searched ahead of them, spotting the Impala stopped on the side of the road, "Sam has already been here."

"So what do we do now?"

Dean sat back in his seat, getting comfortable and putting his feet up, "We wait."

* * *

It was near midnight when Sam appeared from out of the woods. Dean and Bobby had hidden their car, and were now slowly approaching the Impala on their stomachs, keeping themselves concealed within the bushland.

Sam searched nervously about him before unlocking the Impala, and that's when Dean and Bobby sprung out of the bush, holding two pistols towards Sam.

Sam smiled, "I should have known that you would come back. You never stay dead for long, do you?"

"Sammy, you're the one who brought me back in the first place, if you don't remember. But why do it if you were just going to _shoot_ me?"

"Because back then I didn't realise how much more I could be. I've always been the _younger_ brother, and maybe that's true, but you Dean always overshadowed me. But now," he laughed, "Now I'm at last rid of you, and I'm working by myself."

"By yourself?" Dean asked, "Last I heard you were doing the bidding for the Devil down there."

"True, but I _work_ alone. Something I haven't been able to do for a long time."

"Sammy," Dean was trying to stay strong, "That's not you speaking, I know it isn't."

"Oh yeah? Quit crying you moron, you look pathetic."

Dean wiped his eyes clean and stared into his brothers, "Why did you do it, Sam?" he whispered, "Why turn against your own family?"

"Because I'm nothing like you, Dean. You or Dad, I was always the odd one out. I chose to live my life. I went to college, I had a wonderful girlfriend, and you and Dad despised me for it. _I _had the life that I wanted, and you didn't.

"Dad was so proud of you that you wouldn't dare do him wrong. You went along with it all. You became the hunter you are today. But now, Dean, I don't have to live with it anymore. Lucifer has promised me much more than you could possibly give me, and all I have to do are these few small tasks."

Bobby started, "Sam, that's crazy. You should know that Lucifer is only using you to get what he wants."

"So what? I don't care if he gets those knives. I don't care if the world falls to its knees because of me. I will get the life back that I once had, I will be free again. And this is all it takes."

"_All_ it takes?" Dean questioned, "You're talking as if the end of the world is a small price to pay, just to get what you want."

"The end of the world, Dean? Or the beginning?"

"Come on, Man. You've been hunting these creatures for years, and now you go and _join_ them?"

"If you don't like it, Dean, then shoot me. Go ahead! You're the one with the gun, I'm completely defenceless, here," he said, moving away from the Impala, "I'll even step away from the car, we wouldn't want blood-stains on it now, would we?"

"Sam, I'm not going to shoot you, but you've got to stop this nonsense. I _know_ that this isn't you speaking. You wouldn't do this, no matter how far we pushed you."

"That's where you're wrong, Dean. I've kept these emotions pushed in for _years_, but finally I have the chance to let them out, as I have once before."

"What?"

"Do you remember the Roosevelt Asylum?" Sam asked, "That doctor and his tests? He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger, they'd be cured. Instead, they became so angry that they began to riot.

"Exactly what you said, Dean. No matter how far you pushed me, I bottled it all up inside. But one day it was bound to come out. Just like that night, when you gave me that unloaded pistol and told me to shoot you. All the bottled up anger I'd been holding in for twenty years came out of me in that moment, and I pulled the trigger."

"But it didn't kill me."

"No, that's the thing, Dean. It _would have_. There was no trick to what the doctor was doing, it was only venting the anger that I'd bottled up inside. It was enough to make me kill you, Dean. Haven't you ever thought of that before?"

"Of course I have, Sammy. But I knew that it meant nothing, and I know that something is wrong with you now, so I'm going to stop it."

"But you're not going to shoot me."

"No, I couldn't do that to my own brother."

"Well, I'm telling you that it's the only way, Dean. The only way to _save_ me is to kill me, here and now. If not, then I have somebody to find."

Sam began walking towards the Impala, the two weapons still placed on him. Dean heard Bobby cock his gun. "Bobby, wait."

"Dean," he answered, "We can't just let him go, he's dangerous!"

Dean cocked his gun too, "We don't have to."

Dean pulled the trigger and Sam felt the bullet wedge itself into his flesh, piercing the bone of his left shin. The pain was excruciating, and he cursed out loud as Dean and Bobby ran over to him.

Sams' face was pale, and Bobby helped Dean push him into the back seat of the car. Bobby ran back to his truck and retrieved his first aid kit, quickly opening it in the back of the Impala and applying bandages to Sams wound, as Dean fetched himself some rope and tied Sam down to the back seat, so as he couldn't escape as they drove.

"Bobby, where did you learn all this medical stuff?"

"Boy, not all hunters were brought up as hunters."

"What do you mean," Dean asked, getting into the drivers seat.

"I went to a medical school when I was nineteen, but it wasn't long after that when I turned to hunting."

"Why did you become a hunter? What made you choose it?"

"Another time, Dean. We have other things on our hands right now."

"Are you taking your car?" Dean asked.

"No, I won't need it at the moment. It can stay here and I'll come back for it another time."

"Okay, so where to now? Back to Colorado?"

"Well, I guess so. If that Mathew Walker guy wasn't there before, he will be now."


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Chapter 14**

The road back to Colorado seemed so much quicker than the first trip, and Sam lay quiet in the back seat. The loss of blood had knocked him out, but thankfully he was still breathing, and the blood loss had ceased.

Dean and Bobby had been talking for the entire ten hours of their trip so far, but for now they sat thinking, and before long Bobby became restless and switched on the radio.

The shocking coincidence was what they heard when a newsreaders voice began to read a new story that had only recently been revealed.

"_Its almost two o'clock in the morning here at Idaho Springs, where a man has been murdered on the streets less than an hour ago. The Police are stumped at who could have done this, as the wound was knife inflicted and there were no witnesses. Police are also following up another incident that occurred early yesterday morning, where another homicide victim was stabbed outside a local bar. The Police suspect that there is a connection between the two killings, and descriptions are being taken from the witnesses of the first murder…"_

Dean and Bobby both looked shocked. "But if they're getting descriptions of Sam from the people who saw him murder that girl, then its not safe to take him back into the town, Bobby! What are we going to do?"

"Well, there's always my brothers old farmhouse," Bobby suggested, "Nobody would ever find him, it's in the middle of nowhere!"

"Yeah okay, that sounds good. But one of us is going to have to stay with him, we can't have him running off on his own again, that could be catastrophic."

"Dean, how the hell are we going to fix this? It almost seems irreversible!"

"I'll tell you how, by killing that son of a bitch who did this to him."

"You think Lucifer is manipulating him somehow?"

"Well, who else has that kind of power? And I _know_ it's not actually Sam. No matter what he says, I don't believe it, because it's just _not_ true."

Dean stood by this and Bobby didn't even try to contradict him. Not only was he completely at a loss to understand, but also they didn't need another feud at that time.

Sam began to stir, and instantly Dean and Bobby braced themselves. They knew that Sam would not take too nicely to being tied up by his own brother.

Rubbing his eyes, Sam opened them and glanced at where he was. Anger began to flow through him and when he attempted to sit up he realised that he'd been tied down. "Dean," he whispered through clenched teeth, "Let me out of here or I swear I'm going to kill you with my own bare hands."

"Well, the least you could do is ask politely!"

"Dean!" he started to get angry, "Untie me _now!_"

Sam began pulling at his ropes as hard as he could, his face becoming red and his body jerking violently as he continued to attempt to free himself, with no success.

"DEAN!" Sam screamed, causing Dean to jump in his seat, "I'LL KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T LET ME GO!"

He just kept screaming, and a few nasty choice words sprang from his mouth, and until his wrists were blood red he pulled at the ropes that had bound him.

"AAAGGHHH!" Sam continued to scream, but Dean and Bobby tried to pretend that they couldn't hear it and continued to drive.

The sound was utterly deafening, and what they didn't expect was for Sam to suddenly stop the screaming and begin laughing; an ice-cold laugh that sent a shiver down their spines. All of a sudden the car began to shake heavily, and the steering wheel began to turn of its own accord.

"If you won't let me out of here," Sam smirked, "Then I'll have to do it myself."

The knife Bobby usually keeps hidden in his waist pocket suddenly flew out from beneath his jacket and – floating in mid-air – began to saw through the bonds that held Sam down.

"What the-"

"Bobby, do me a favour," Sam began as he sat up at last, "Open the car door, undo your seatbelt and jump out."

"Sure, no problem, Sam."

"Bobby, no!" Dean yelled, but it was too late.

Within seconds Bobby had opened the door and thrown himself out, crashing onto the road as they travelled at 50 miles per hour down the road, and Sam just continued to laugh at the top of his lungs.

The car was now out of Deans' control, and without even thinking he dived into the back seat after Sam, knowing that he didn't have much time at all before Sam would overcome him with his freakish mind powers.

Sam wasn't expecting it, and as they struggled with each other for a few moments Dean pulled his pistol from his pocket and slammed the handle over Sams' temple, knocking him out cold.

The car spun out of control, and it was lucky that there was no oncoming traffic as the car switched lanes and Dean had to dive head first into the front seat, reaching down with his hands to push the brakes.

The car slid for a moment and then pulled to a stop, and after applying the handbrake Dean hauled himself out of the car and looked back. He could see no sign of Bobby, and as he got back into the car, disengaging the handbrake, he hoped that Sam wasn't going to wake up anytime soon.

Driving back, he found Bobby on the side of the road. He was alive, but his body was broken and bruised, a lot of blood bleeding from his wounds.

Dean stopped the car and ran out to him, "Bobby?" he whispered, "Bobby, come on, we've got to get you out of here."

Bobby groaned, "Dean, where's Sam?"

"Don't worry, I took care of him. He's in the back seat now, out cold."

* * *

Bobby sat in the back with Sam the entire way, keeping a close eye on him in case he woke up. Luckily Sam was deep in his sleep again and didn't wake as they entered the barns' driveway. Dean dragged Sam's body out of the car and into Bobby's brothers barn, where they lay him in a corner and sat down, breathing deeply.

"Dean, what _happened_ out there? I don't know why I did it, it was like I couldn't control myself!"

"It was Sam, his abilities have returned."

"Abilities? I thought Sam only had those premonitions?"

"No, it must be more than that. Remember Jake? Sam said that the only ability he had was super strength, but when we met him at the Devils Gates it seemed that he'd gained a lot more. He made Ellen hold a gun to her head, remember?"

"Yeah, of course I remember, but why does Sam have them now?"

"I don't know, but if he actually has _all_ the powers, as he seems to have, then we're in a lot of trouble."

"But why? Why Sam?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure as hell going to find out. I'm _not_ going to let Lucifer control Sam like that."

"Are you sure he's actually controlling him?"

"Bobby! Do we have to have that conversation again? Of _course_ he's being controlled!"

"Dean, I'm just saying-"

"Saying what? That Sam is _actually_ a violent murderer? That he really wants to kill me?"

"No, but you must at least consider the fact that there's something more to this than you want to believe."

Dean said nothing, and Bobby opened his mouth to continue when they heard Sam groan. The two of them instantly reached for their guns and approached Sam slowly.

Sam sat upright and looked at them, a shocked look coming over his face, "Dean! What are you doing?"

It took only a few seconds of staring, and Dean lowered his gun.

"Dean?" Bobby questioned, "What are you doing?"

Dean crouched down next to Sam, "It's actually Sam this time, Bobby."

"How do you know?"

"Well, when he becomes that... other person, you can just tell by the look on his face. He has these _shadows_ under his eyes, and the lines on his face change. Trust me, Bobby, I can just tell."

Sam looked confused, "What's happening? Where _am_ I?"

Bobby lowered his gun, "You don't remember anything?"

Sam blinked slowly and rubbed his face with his hand, "No, last thing I remember was searching through the local phone directories for Mathew Walker. Then everything went black."

"Were you possessed?"

"Not that I know of. I mean, you would usually remember bits and pieces if you were being possessed, but I don't remember a thing!"

Dean gave Bobby a confused look, and Bobby shrugged his shoulders. He winced in pain and lay down on a haystack. Sam looked at him strangely and asked, "Did _I_ do that?"

Dean sighed, "We don't know, Sammy. But something came over you earlier, something terrible, and we need to find out what."

Dean pulled a spoon from one of the kitchen drawers and turned to Sam, holding it up. "Sam, I've asked you before and I'll ask you again. Try to bend this spoon."

"What?" Sam asked, confused, "Why?"

* * *

Sam took a breather. "But how?" he asked, "How could I use all those abilities if I've never been able to _before_."

"I don't know," Dean replied, "But something came over you. I don't know what, but it was like an alternate personality or something. You know, like that kid from the movie _Primal Fear_? With the multiple personality disorder? One of his personalities was a harmless boy, and the other was a vicious serial killer."

Sam laughed, "But Dean, at the end of that movie we found out that he was just _pretending_ to have that disorder, remember?"

"Oh yeah. But still, lets forget that part. What do we do about this?"

"Dean, you know this must be what Dad warned you about."

Dean held up his hand, "Sam, stop. I'm not going to kill you and that's final, so stop bringing up all this stuff that Dad said so long ago."

"But Dean!" Sam exclaimed, "I don't want to hurt anyone else! I've killed one girl and I may have killed more! Also I practically threw Bobby out of a moving car. You _have_ to do it, Dean."

"I can't, Sammy," he was practically in tears, "You know I won't do that."

A harsh silence hit the room, and Dean sat down, placing his weapon back into its holster.

Sam stood up, "Well, we know Mathew Walker is in town now, don't we?" he asked, "Shouldn't we go find him already?"

Dean looked at him, "I'm not sure if it's safe for you Sam."

"What? Because you think I'll turn into some psycho killer?"

"Sammy," Dean started, "I don't know what to think at this point. I know it wasn't you, but in another way, it was_._"

"Come on, that's no reason not to let me come."

"Well, I should probably point out that the cops are looking for your ass now, ever since that girl was murdered outside that bar."

"Yeah, that's a good point," Sam said slowly, "But you can't just expect me to stay _here_ the whole time."

"That's exactly what I expect you to do," Dean answered, "You can't come, and that's final."

Sam knew that there was no point arguing, and limped over to help Bobby, who attempted to patch himself up with a few bandages, "Jesus, Dean! Why did you have to shoot me?" Sam asked.

"Can you feel it?"

"Well, actually no, which I'm glad about. But I sure as hell can if I try to walk."

"That's just another reason to stay behind, isn't it?" Dean mocked, "Bobby, are you gonna be okay?"

He smiled, "Boy, I've suffered worse than this in my years of hunting. I'll be fine. Lets just go and find this Walker guy already. The sooner we find him, the sooner we can waste Lucifer and this will all be over."

"Yeah, let's hope so." Dean muttered.

* * *

Once they had gathered their strength back, Dean and Bobby headed out, though they were a little hesitant leaving Sam behind, even though they knew that it would be impossible to take him too.

They headed off in the Impala, and Sam laid himself down on a haystack, furious that they refused to take him with them.

"Okay, Bobby," Dean began, "Where do we start searching?"

"Well, I guess we start over. We'll give Ellen another visit. Maybe she's seen something since last time you talked to her."

"I highly doubt it, but okay, we'll have a look. But we have to be careful, Bobby. If Sams' visions were right, then he has an army of Demons at his disposal, and we can't match that."

"Well, once we find out where he's hiding, we'll think of something, like always."

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "You're right. We just can't fail at this one, you know? Not only are our lives at stake, as well as everyone that Lucifer may fall victim to, but Sammy's _fate_ as well."

"Don't worry, Dean. Sam will be okay, you'll see."

It took no time at all to get into town, but when they turned the corner coming into the bar, they instantly knew that something was wrong.

"What the hell?" Dean asked, staring down at the ambulance and two police vehicles parked outside the bar, their lights ablaze.

They stopped the car and got out, walking up to the police who were interviewing a young girl who had been drinking in the bar.

"Excuse me," Dean interrupted, "What's happening here?"

The officer turned to him, "The fire alarms were pulled no more than twenty minutes ago." He announced, "There was a large commotion, and when everything was cleared up the girl bartender was missing."

"How do you know she was missing?"

"Well, somebody said that they saw her disappear from behind the bar; screaming, and when we had a look we found blood on the other side of the counter. We're sure that it's hers."

A thought struck Dean, "What was her name?"

"A friend of hers identified her as Ellen Harvelle."

Deans' stomach dropped at this. "Who saw her being grabbed?"

"He's sitting inside at the moment, waiting to be interviewed again."

"Do you have any leads at all? About who did it?"

"Not yet," the officer replied, "But we're suspecting a young male who was spotted yesterday at the scene of the first death."

"Does he have a name?" Dean asked.

"Not that we know of, but we've had a few people give descriptions of the guy and his-" The officer glanced behind Dean and saw the Impala, "Is that yours?"

Dean looked behind him and realised what he was talking about, "No, that's my cousin's car. My own broke down and I'm just borrowing it for the day."

The officer looked at Dean suspiciously, and then walked away whispering into his mic.

"Are we busted?" Bobby asked, watching the officer walk away.

"No, not yet. Let's just get a look inside. If we're right, then Walker has taken Ellen as well as Jo, and he'll hold them against us. Also we had better talk to the guy who saw it happen, he might be able to help."

The two of them walked back to the Impala, and Dean reached into the glove box, pulling out a few state police badges and placing them in their pockets.

They flashed the officer standing guard at the police-tape, who lifted it to allow them to enter, without questioning them at all. They walked into the empty bar and up to a young male who sat in one of the seats, and by the look on his face he'd been there for a long time.

"Hey there," Dean sat in the seat next to him, "I'm Officer Gant and this is Officer Gordon, State Police."

"Why would the state police be involved in this?"

"Well, we believe that a known serial-killer is on the loose in this town, and this is a case that needs closing. We asked the police and they said that you saw Mrs Harvelle being attacked, but do you remember any other details? Did you see his car by any chance?"

"Well, he didn't have a car. I saw him grab that lady and he exited the fire doors. He left on foot and that was all."

"Anything else?"

"No, sorry. That was all I saw."

"Thanks for your time." Bobby said as they walked out of the bar and back to the Impala, "So, what do you think?"

"Well, first thing is we've got to find out if Mathew Walker ever lived in Idaho Springs."

"Where can we find that?"

"Well, there's a local library up on 14th Avenue, they've probably got a few computers we can use."

"Do you even know _how_ to use a computer?"

"Well," Dean thought, "I've seen Sammy use one enough times."

"Yeah, whatever."

Driving through the streets and using the Idaho Springs road map from the Colorado state directory, they found 14th avenue and eventually stopped outside the library.

"Closed?" Dean asked, looking up at the large sign, "But we need it now!"

Bobby laughed, "Since when has a 'closed' sign ever stopped you before."

They stopped the car around the corner and opened the trunk, taking with them a small kit bag of anything they could need to gain entry.

"Do you think they'll have an alarm system?"

"Most unlikely, Dean," Bobby answered, "Look how ancient this place is; _founded in 1904._" he read aloud.

"Shall we use the front door?"

"I don't see why not."

Dean pulled out a few tools and began working on the lock. It took him barely a minute before they heard the lock click and they gained entry.

They scanned the front room for any signs of an alarm, and when they were sure that they were safe they walked in and found the computers, switching one on and making sure that there was nobody else there with them.

"Okay," Dean muttered, logging in and opening the Idaho Springs database recorded on the computer.

A large screen came up with the title '_Idaho Springs Phone and Address directory since 1859.' _

"Well, that was easy." Bobby whispered.

"Yeah, well being around Sammy you tend to learn these kind of things. Every town library has a database of residents that have ever lived there, and they come in very useful sometimes."

"Okay, so what now."

Dean typed into the search box '_Mathew Walker'. _The search took no time at all, after a quick scan a notice appeared on the screen reading "_'0' matches for _'_Mathew Walker' found in database"._

Bobby thought for a minute, "Try just 'Walker'. See if he has any relatives in town."

Without question, Dean searched it,_ '14 matches for "Walker" found in database'._

"We can't search fourteen homes, Dean. You've got to break that down a bit."

"How about we search for homes close to the Bar. He would've had to go somewhere close, it's not exactly inconspicuous walking around with a hostage in your arms."

Dean searched the addresses from the fourteen listings, looking for one close to the bar. "Well, twelve of the fourteen are completely on the opposite side of town, and there's only one that is anywhere near the bar."

"Is it close enough to walk to with a hostage?"

"Actually, yes. I think so."

"What's the address?"

"'Eighteen high street'. It's just around the corner from the bar, but there's also a nearby alleyway that short cuts through close to the house. If he went anywhere, I'm guessing it would have been there."

"Well, lets get going then."

* * *

**Thanks for reading - i'm posting these real quick... No, i'm not that fast a writer. They were written an age ago. I'm just posting the entire story because I know I won't later on... I probably won't get around to re-writing the whole thing. It's not lack of persistence, but i'm very busy at the moment.**


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Chapter 15**

Sam grasped at his forehead, a blinding white light torturing him and an excruciating pain befalling him.

Every time they happened it just became more painful, and now images began to flicker through his mind, and suddenly he was thrown into the grandstand of an alternate time and place.

Sam glimpsed the outside of the house they were situated in, and suddenly his vision was thrown onto the inside, where a devastating image met his eyes.

They were outnumbered, but still Dean and Bobby held their positions, guns raised at Mathew Walkers head.

"Boys, you could shoot me now, but it won't do you any good. There are more than fifty Demons circling you at this moment, and every one is ready to rip you to shreds the minute I fall to the ground. But of course, they don't want to actually _cause_ my death, which is the only thing keeping you alive."

"Why are you collecting the knives?" Dean asked, "What business do you have with them?"

The vision began to flicker, and almost as if he was moving forward in time, Sam saw the aftermath of this scene, right before his eyes.

Bobby was crouched in a corner, his broken body bloodied and bruised. Dean was pressed up against a wall, blood dripping from his face onto the cold floorboards below. Walker picked himself up from the ground, holding a pistol in his hands.

His left eye was bleeding terribly, and there was nothing but complete hatred etched into the harsh lines of his face. It was a horrific sight, and he cocked the pistol.

"What will you achieve by killing us?" Dean asked weakly, "What is the purpose of this?"

"If there is anyone who is capable of stopping me and my plans," Walker answered, "It is you, Dean. You, your friend and your brother, but I will get to them in a moment."

He raised his gun and aimed it at Dean. A loud gunshot echoed through the room, and the body of Dean fell to the ground, a clear gunshot wound in his forehead.

Without wasting a second, Walker approached Bobby. Bobby was supporting broken bones and was incapable of defending himself as Walker unleashed the legendary weapon of Ollathair and stabbed it straight through Bobby's' chest. Bobby choked on his own blood and the life from his eyes began to fade.

His breathing stopped and he lay still, his blood spilling onto the floor in front of him.

The demons frothed at the mouths, and Walker smiled, "Help yourselves, boys."

Sam woke up, panting and sweating horrifically. Dean and Bobby were in danger, and he knew it. His visions were never wrong. But he sincerely hoped that for once they were.

* * *

"So, Bobby, what's the plan?"

Dean and Bobby were standing in the same motel room that Dean had booked last time they were in town, preparing themselves with an arsenal of knives, holy water, salt, paint and guns.

"Truthfully," Bobby answered, "I have no idea."

"Well, we need _something_! We've never taken on this many demons before! Plus this bastard has two of the three knives that we need to take down Lucifer, and we can't do it without them."

"Well, if you come up with anything good, let me know, because I'm completely stumped."

"How do you take on an army of Demons and win?" Dean asked himself, "Plus the murderous freak who has kidnapped two of your best friends and holds them hostage right at this moment."

"Do you think we still hold the element of surprise, Dean?"

Dean sighed, "I don't think we ever had it in the first place. He knew we were coming the whole time, that's why he kidnapped Jo and Ellen."

"I think we should get a look at the house first, get an idea of where we're going to be, before actually running in."

"Yeah," Dean replied, "That would probably be the smart idea. How long until sunset do you think?"

"Maybe three hours? Or less, but I think that should be enough time to search the house and be back before dark."

"When do we go in?"

"I guess our only option is at night, and hopefully with the cover of darkness, we can sneak up on them."

Dean loaded one of his pistols and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans, "Well, let's go search that house."

* * *

"Astaroth." The deep voice boomed throughout the graveyard surrounding the Devils Gates.

A small girl approached the shadow that spoke, but she did not tremble the slightest, "Why do you not call me by my name?"

"Because your name is not Lilith, it is truly Astaroth."

"Not since I dwelt within hell. That has not been so for over a century now."

Lucifer did not heed this; "I have a task for you." He announced.

Lilith looked shocked, "Why me?"

"Because the last person I sent on this mission has failed us."

"Sam Winchester? But I thought you had taken care of him! You told us that he was on our side now."

"Well, I hadn't counted on his brothers extreme luck. He managed to bring dear Sammy back to his senses, using an ancient magic that he did not realise he was using at the time."

"What was this power? And how could it be strong enough to overcome _you_?"

"You do not need to worry. It has been enough to throw me out of control, but not enough to throw me out entirely. Sam will meet his fate in due course. But until then, there is an incomplete mission for you to attend to."

"I must ask you," Lilith started, "Why do you keep Sam Winchester alive? He has the potential to kill the both of us and ruin all your plans for this world. _Why _do you insist on him living? I could crush him with the palm of my tiny hand, if only you would allow it to me."

"Sam Winchester has a part to play in this just yet, but it is not against us that the part will be played. I know what the three of them are planning, and nor shall it work. They're walking into a trap with every move they make."

"Where do you need me to go?"

"Idaho Springs, number Eighteen High Street. There you will find Mathew Walker, and if I'm right Sams two little friends Dean and Bobby will be there too."

"Whom of these do I have permission to kill?" she asked.

"Anyone or anything else besides Sam Winchester are disposable, just make sure that you get your hands on Walker. He is vital to our plans, and we need him."

"But what if Sam Winchester shows up? What if he tries to interfere?"

The fiery pits of Lucifers eyes lit up, and another thought came to his mind, "Actually, I've changed my mind. I _do_ want you to pay Sam a visit. Do not take the knife with you though, but keep it safe; hidden, as you have been these past weeks. The colt is worthless to us, and I want you to confront Sam with it. He must not suspect what happens, but you must leave it in his possession."

"You want me to take the colt and... give it to Sam Winchester?"

"Yes," he answered, "I have a plan, and for it to succeed Sam must have the colt. But make sure that he does not interfere with the events at number 18 High Street."

"That will be no problem at all. But what if I'm hit with one of the Crusaders blades? Or shot with the colt?"

"You know as well as I, _Lilith,_ that you are practically immune from these perils, just as long as you are out of there before 2100 hours. But beware of Sam. He is much more dangerous than you first thought him to be. He is growing stronger with every passing minute, I can feel it."

"I'm not immune, If I am hit it has fatal consequences for the body in which I reside. But most of the time I'm much too quick for them to hit me at all."

"Exactly, so you should have no problem taking down Sam."

"Do not worry about Sam Winchester, I can deal with him." Lilith smirked.

The shadow erupted in a mass of dark flame and Lilith turned and began to walk, knowing her task and setting out to complete it.

* * *

Sam was running around frantically. He had no idea what to do. He knew something terrible was about to happen to Bobby and his brother, but he had no idea where he was or how to get back to Idaho Springs.

He calmed himself down, sitting himself on a chair in the corner and thinking properly. He leaned over and switched on the lamp beside him, illuminating the room in a thick yellow glow.

_Knowing Bobby, _Sam thought, _He would have some kind of old car around the back. Maybe I could use that to drive into town. And it shouldn't be hard to find a road map._

The light began to flicker. All of a sudden the light outside became dull and a cold wind swept through the barn house. _Something is coming,_ Sam thought, jumping up quickly.

He ran into the kitchen, pulled open one of the top cupboards, finding a large white bag and spreading salt around every crack from which a demon could possibly enter. Pulling out a rock-salt gun, he held it out in front of him; ready for anything that may come after him.

"Hello, Sam."

Sam turned sharply to find himself staring into the eyes of a young girl, walking towards him slowly with a strange coolness.

"Lilith," Sam hissed, "What do you want?"

"What's wrong, Sammy? Not happy to see me?"

Sam didn't answer; he just stood there with his weapon raised, glaring at her.

"Well, I must say that I'm happy to see _you_. Especially since our little reunion in the graveyard, and you must know how lucky you were that night. I must say that I could have killed you a hundred different times these past few days, but unfortunately Lucifer has forbidden it," she smirked, "_Until now."_

"Why did Lucifer want me alive? And how has he been controlling me?"

"Oh, Sam, I wish I could tell you, but I don't even know myself. Lucifer has his ways, and he always has. This time, he wants you dead, and I plan to help him achieve that."

Lilith pulled out from her pocket a large pistol and cocked it, aiming it at Sam. He recognised it instantly, _the colt._

"I should probably tell you," Lilith began, "That I visited your brother, Dean, on the way here. He and his older friend."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. You should know that both of them have already taken their last breath of air. They both lay dead on the streets of Idaho Springs. But of course, you should already know that, you have visions of these things, don't you, Sammy."

"You're lying," he mumbled, "And don't call me Sammy!"

"Ooh, feisty one, huh? Don't worry Sam. They died _nice_ and _slowly,_ choking on their own blood as they pleaded with me to help them."

"Demons lie. _You're _lying. I know it's not true, you're just trying to screw with my head."

"Oh really? If that is true, then tell me you haven't had a vision lately, Sam."

Sam looked down at her, it couldn't be true, it just _couldn't. _But he had seen something. He had watched both Dean and Bobby die, but at the hands of Mathew Walker, not Lilith.

"How did they die?" Sam asked.

"Oh, nothing special. Your brother was shot and his friends' throat was slashed."

"And you did this?"

Lilith laughed, "No, Sam. It wasn't me, but oh how I wish it _had_ been."

Sam's stomach dropped at this. _Maybe she was telling the truth; maybe Dean was really-_

No. He couldn't believe it.

"Sorry, Sam. But this is where it ends for you."

Sams face began to turn red. She cocked the colt and stepped towards him when suddenly the gun flew out of her hands and landed on the ground in the corner. Sam could feel his own temperature rising, anger flowing through him violently.

Though it should have been impossible, Sam picked up a large crate and threw it directly at Lilith, who was sent flying backwards. She spat on the ground and got back up, dodging out of the way of another crate. Lilith smiled; Sam was doing exactly what she needed him to do. He was fighting back. His abilities were kicking in at last.

As Lilith approached him Sam threw himself sideways and grabbed the colt, aiming it at Lilith, who stopped in her tracks.

He pulled himself back to his feet, keeping the gun steady. "How did you get past the salt?" he asked, "No Demon should be able to do that."

Lilith laughed at him again, "You should know that things like that don't work on things like me."

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked, "But I bet this colt would."

She eyed it angrily. He knew - he _thought -_ that he had her exactly where he wanted.

"But I know your secret. I know that you can't be killed at this moment in time."

"Yes, of course you do. So you should know that shooting me with that colt would have absolutely no effect at all."

"Oh? Is that so?" Sam mused, "I know that I can't kill you, but shooting you would cause you to be evacuated from that body you reside within."

Lilith put on a pretend fear, making Sam believe that he actually had the upper hand. He smiled and pulled the trigger.

The bullet sped through the air, but Lilith was faster. Her body evaporated through the ceiling and the bullet hit the wall behind her, ricocheting off, the noise echoing throughout the room.

Lilith reappeared on the other side of him, but before he could react she manipulated the stack of crates in the corner to explode violently, and the debris from the wreckage zoomed across the room and pinned Sam down, beneath more than two hundred kilograms of weight, and the force knocked the wind out of him, and he barely stayed conscious.

Lilith smirked at her work, and within the second, she was gone.

Sam lay beneath the wreckage, the colt still in his hands, and all seemed hopeless. But he knew that he had to get out of there.

The fate of his brother depended on it.

* * *

Dean and Bobby approached number eighteen High Street, the kit bag slung over their shoulders. They walked around the back of the house, attempting to gain an idea of the place before their attack later that night. They slowly opened the rear door and walked inside, attempting to be quiet.

But they hadn't been as careful as they should have been. Somebody already knew that they were there.

"Well, well, well," A voice echoed from the room in front of them, and a large man came into view. Dean and Bobby held up their pistols to the figure and slowly entered the next room.

"Mathew Walker." Bobby whispered.

"That's right," he answered, "I know you've been following me for some time now, ever since I gained possession of a valuable weapon you once owned."

The lights were switched on and they saw the full image of Mathew Walker for the first time.

"Do you even know what those weapons can do?" Dean asked, keeping his attention upon Walker, in case he made some kind of move.

Walker laughed, "I know more about these weapons than just about anybody on this planet. Except Lucifer, of course."

"You know about Lucifer?" Bobby asked, surprised.

"Word travels fast around here."

They had entered an extremely large garage of some sort, and the side doors opened and a hoard of demons entered. "Ah, here they are." Walker smiled.

"Where are you keeping our friends?"

"You mean little Jo and her mother?" he chuckled, "Oh, they're in a safe place. But if you've come here to save them, then I'm afraid that you're out of luck."

"Who _are _you?" Dean questioned, "Are you a demon?"

"Oh, no," Walker chuckled menacingly, "I am no Demon. In fact, I am a descendant of one of the most famous demon _hunters_ of all time."

Bobby and Dean looked confused, and he spoke again, "The blood of the original crusader, Ollathair, runs in my veins. But I am nothing like him. I do not seek to destroy Lucifer."

"You seem confident with yourself," started Dean, "But what makes you think we won't just kill you here and now?"

"Boys, you could shoot me now, but it won't do you any good. There are more than fifty Demons circling you at this moment, and every one is ready to rip you to shreds the minute I fall to the ground. But of course, they don't want to actually _cause_ my death, which is the only thing keeping you alive."

"Why are you collecting the knives?" Dean asked, "What business do you have with them?"

"Oh, never you mind, Dean. I do not plan to bring down Lucifer, but to _take over _his position. At this moment in time he is the most powerful being on the planet. But with the knives I can overcome him and take that place from him."

Dean looked at him strangely, "You're crazy, you know-" he suddenly stopped.

The lights began to flicker, and Walker's expression became puzzled, but Dean and Bobby knew exactly what was happening.

_Something had come._ And Dean knew who it was.

Lilith appeared out of nowhere, and with a short flick of her wrist she sent Dean and Bobby flying off into two separate corners of the room.

The Demons started moving towards her, but in a flash of white light they were trapped inside a large electrical dome, screeching in pain as they writhed on the floor, an invisible torture overcoming them.

Walker pulled from his pocket the Demon killing knife and threw it at Lilith who moved her head sideways and dodged the blade. "You'll have to do better than that." She laughed.

The knife rose into the air above where it had landed, and all of a sudden it was launched towards Walker, who threw himself backwards in an attempt to move out of its path, but its blade scraped across his left eye and he landed on the ground, bleeding terribly.

From an unknown hiding place he then pulled out the long sword from whose hand the demon Xelas had lost his life, and ran towards Lilith with it.

She stood still, watching the demons writhing in pain. She had power that none of them had ever seen before. The demons trapped inside the dome began to scream and their bodies became dispossessed, their shadows erupting and falling through the floorboards, the countless bodies falling unconscious to the ground.

Walker lunged at Lilith who - without looking - moved slightly to the side and dodged the blow without raising a finger, and then she turned sharply towards him, her eyes shining white, thrusting out a hand and pinning him against the nearest wall.

She smirked at him, pointing, "I'll get back to you later, Hun."

He struggled against the force, but it was just too powerful for him. Dean was pressed against the wall in the corner, and Lilith approached him, smiling. "Well, if it isn't Dean Winchester."

"Go back to hell, bitch."

"Well, I could say the same to you, Dean." She held her finger out towards him and a burning pain began to drill through Dean's head, and he screamed in agony.

Lilith clenched her fingers and Dean was thrown into the air, hovering six metres in the air on the roof. His body was completely limp, not even attempting to pull himself from Lilith's grasp. He hovered for another few seconds as Lilith enjoyed the use of her power, and then suddenly he dropped violently to the floor, and with a sickening crunch it was almost as if he'd broken his leg.

Dean was barely conscious at this stage, and from her pocket she pulled the third knife, the legendary knife of Palladium they had planned to come after once they finished with Walker.

She swung the blade high in the air, but before she brought it down upon Dean, she began to choke on her own air and spluttered, blood emerging from her mouth. Looking down, she saw the sword of Ollathair protruding from her chest.

She looked in disgust behind her, and saw Sam pull the sword back out again, a gleaming red substance upon its blade.

She fell to her knees and spluttered, "How the hell did you get out?"

Sam looked at her in disgust, "You're not the only one with powers," he smirked.

"But you don't know how to control them!"

"Well, I don't now how I did it either, but I did, and I've stopped you from killing Dean."

"This won't kill me," she laughed, "But I'll be back for you, Sam Winchester. You and your brother."

The body of Lilith dropped to the ground, but her shadowy form rose from the mouth and evaporated through the ceiling.

He didn't have much time. Sam left his brother and walked out to confront Mathew Walker, pulling the colt from his back pocket as he went. But when he got out there, Walker wasn't there.

From behind, Mathew Walker unexpectedly dived on Sam, throwing them both to the floor. Sam attempted to pull himself free, but Walker was too strong. He pulled Sams arm into an awkward position behind his back, and Sam struggled with the pain as Walker led him over to another corner of the room, where he tied Sam to a large metal pole, his hands tied behind his back.

He knelt down and picked up the colt, examining it and laughing. "The gun of Samuel Colt. I've been looking for this thing for a long time. But I had heard that there were no more bullets left. Perhaps I was wrong. But I don't need it for demons, so it won't matter either way."

Walker picked himself up off the ground, holding the colt in his hands, and glanced over at what was once his army of demons, and felt a great pity for them.

Sam looked around desperately for a way to escape. His vision was coming true right before his eyes, and he had no way of stopping it.

He saw the Knife of Amaethon lying on the ground near where Walker had been strung up, and knew what he had to do. Sam focused on it, straining his mind, attempting to use the abilities that he knew were inside of him somewhere.

Walker walked towards Dean, his left eye bleeding terribly, and there was nothing but complete and utter hatred etched into the harsh lines of his face. It was a horrific sight, and he cocked the pistol.

Dean looked like he'd given up. Tears ran down his face and he knew that he couldn't defend himself from this maniac.

The knife lifted itself from the ground and sped over towards Sam. Shocked at his success, he freed himself with the knife, but he knew it was too late. Walker began to pull the trigger towards Dean, and Sam dropped to his knees, focusing his thoughts on the outcome of this shot – what would happen if he couldn't stop it.

The fear was enough, and the adrenaline he focused threw the gun off course and the bullet ricocheted off the wall above Deans' head and Walker looked around for the cause of the disturbance.

Sam kept his concentration fixed upon this power and threw Mathew Walker off balance, sending him tumbling to the floor, hitting his head on a chair sat in the middle. He seemed to be knocked out.

Sam rushed to help Dean out of the room before Walker woke and realised what he was doing.

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean whimpered, and Sam pulled his damaged body from the corner and laid him in one of the large closets off the garage.

Walker rubbed his head and picked himself up again, hatred in his eyes. He grabbed the sword of Ollathair off the ground next to him and proceeded towards Bobby, moving in for the kill.

Sam left Dean and entered the room once more, to see Walker standing over Bobby, the sword raised ready to strike.

"NOO!" Sam exclaimed as Walker struck with the sword, stabbing right through Bobby's chest, blood spilling from the fatal wound.

Grief overcame Sam, and he had tears in his eyes, and Walker turned and smiled at him.

Sam felt anger surge through him once more, and he reached over, pulled the colt from the ground beside him and aimed it at Walker, pulling the trigger.

The room was filled with the sound of sickening gunshots, and Walker didn't realise what had happened to him until it was already too late. He fell backwards and hit the floor, bleeding from three small wounds in his chest.

Sam - his legs ready to give way - crawled over to Bobby, who lay in the corner, choking on his own blood and the life fading from his eyes.

"Bobby," Sam whimpered.

"S-Sam," he stuttered, fighting the mouthfuls of blood blocking his airway, "I'm dy-dying S-Sammy."

"No," Sam whispered, "You can't die, Bobby, you can't!"

Bobby closed his eyes, and with one final breath his head rolled to the side, and he lay still in the silence that followed.

Sam refused to believe what he saw. Bobby was sleeping, yes.

He shook the body, "Bobby?" he whispered, "Bobby!"

No.

Bobby was dead.

* * *

**I'm sorry!! Don't kill me yet =( Just read on.**


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Note - **_This chapter is very confusing, so forgive me. It should make more sense at the end... I hope. This was going to all be changed when I got around to rewriting this chapter, but that hasn't happened yet, so here's the original =P_

**Chapter 16**

There was nothing he could do to stop it.

Sam and Dean were crouched in a corner, powerless to defend themselves against the monstrosity that approached them, a large gun cocked and aimed at Sams' head.

Bobby just watched, pinned up against the wall opposite, unable to glimpse the attacker, but tears were forming in his eyes, as he knew what was about to happen to his two most dear friends in the world.

Sam and Dean gazed sadly into Bobby's eyes, who was attempting not to think about how they were feeling at this moment. They knew that they had barely seconds to live, and this time they knew that nobody would come to the rescue.

With two horrible gunshots, the lifeless bodies of Sam and Dean fell to the ground, obviously dead.

He couldn't take it; the view was just too terrible. He closed his eyes and gazed at the ground, listening to the feint footsteps approaching him.

"Look at me," the attacker hissed.

Bobby stayed staring at the ground, stubborn in what could be his last moments.

"I said _look!_"

An invisible force grasped Bobby and his head was pulled into an upright position, and for the first time that night, Bobby glimpsed the face of their anonymous attacker.

"John?" he squinted, "John Winchester?"

The name caught the demon by surprise, and he stumbled backwards, his deep black eyes piercing Bobby's, and they locked gazes for the shortest of moments, before the figure turned and left without another word, releasing Bobby from the force which held him prisoner.

* * *

The two of them sat mourning long after midnight had come, crying over the lifeless body of their loyal friend, who had been through so much and come so far, only to be ruthlessly taken out of the fight.

"Sammy," Dean whispered, "Come on, we can't stay here."

"Bobby…" Sam mourned.

"Come on," Dean said, pulling Sams arm gently until he stood up, his eyes never leaving the body of his fallen friend.

"We can't just leave his body, Dean."

Dean sighed, "Okay, we'll take him with us, then. Help me carry him."

The two of them picked up the body and heaving them between each other they carried him through the front doors and loaded him into the old truck that Sam had used to drive into town.

Sam wiped the tears from his eyes and got into the truck, "Did you get the weapons?" he asked.

"Yeah, they're in the bag, up the back."

"And Lilith's?"

"No, it wasn't there."

"How is that possible? Did she take it _with_ her?"

"I think so, Sammy."

"But… no way!" Sam exclaimed, "She didn't even have a physical form!"

"I know, but it seems like we're going to have to find and defeat her how we'd planned to from the start, if we're going to get that weapon from her."

"Dean," Sam paused, "We have to put all that on hold first. We have to cremate Bobby first."

"Cremate him?" Dean asked, "No." he demanded, "Not yet."

"Why?"

"Trust me, Sammy. We just can't. Not yet."

Sam didn't bother to question him any further, and they drove the truck down to the motel where Dean had parked the Impala and unloaded Bobby into the car. They left the truck outside the motel, wiped it down for prints and left town in the Impala.

The mood was gloomy and Sam sat in the passenger seat cursing himself for not attending to Bobby before he helped his brother.

"It was my fault." He insisted, whispering to himself.

Dean heard this, "Sammy?" He asked, "This wasn't your fault and you couldn't have stopped it."

Sam knew in his heart that this was true, but somehow he felt as if he had contributed towards his death somehow.

"So, where are we going next?" he asked, tryiNg to put this from his mind.

"Well, we've still got to find Ellen and Jo, and we'd better act quickly," he answered, "We don't know how much time they have."

"Okay, we could do a search for houses that Mathew Walker may have lived in," Sam suggested, "It's a place to start."

Dean tossed him a cell phone, "Do it, then."

Sam entered a familiar number and waited for the dial tone.

_"Hello?" _A female voice answered on the other end.

"Er, yes," Sam started, pulling from the glove compartment an old stolen police badge, "This is detective Bennetts of the New York Police Department, and I'm looking for some information, if you may give it to me."

_"What is your badge number?" _She asked.

"ID. 391494" Sam answered.

Over the line Sam heard the distance sounds of typing on a keyboard. She was obviously searching his I.D number.

"Okay, Detective Bennetts, what do you want to know?"

* * *

"Wyoming?" Dean questioned, "Which town?"

"Well, it says that the only place ever registered under his name was a small home in Pinedale."

"You got an address?"

"Sure have. But Dean, before we go there we had better stop by Bobby's truck. There may be some things we could use in there, and we need all the help we can get."

"Yeah, sure thing. Sammy. You know, you don't seem as upset as you probably should be over Bobby's death," Dean pointed out, "You sure you're okay?"

"I don't know, Dean. I have this weird feeling. It's like I know he's dead, but somehow it just doesn't feel right. It's like I can feel his presence where I shouldn't... Does that make any sense at all?"

Dean looked at him, confused, "Nope, not at all."

"Well," Sam answered, "I don't know how to explain it, but I think there is more to this than we first thought."

"More to this, like... how?"

Sam sighed, "Truthfully, I don't know."

Dean laughed, "You really _are_ a freak."

"Thanks, Dean. That makes me feel so much better."

"No problem. So how long until Wyoming?"

"About four hundred and fifty miles."

Dean looked at him, "I'm no freak, and I can't do the math. How long, Sammy?"

"Around seven hours, but five to six if you break the speed limit."

"Okay," Dean replied, "But I can't do this for another six hours, so we're swapping halfway."

"Yeah, whatever."

Dean moaned, "I swear that I've done more driving in the past four days than I have in my entire life."

* * *

Sam had been at the wheel for almost three and a half hours when they approached the road that led to the railway tracks bordering the Devils Gates. Dean was snoring in his sleep, and Sam had to shake him hard to wake him.

"Dean!" he whispered, "Dean, we're here."

"Where?"

"Wake up, man. Bobby's truck shouldn't be far."

Sam slowed the pace down dramatically, and they searched for the entrance path to where they had stashed Bobby's truck. "There," Dean pointed, "I see the path."

Sam stopped the car and the two of them got out, following the path into the bush, and rounding a corner to where the truck should have been.

The only problem was, it wasn't there.

"What the-" Dean walked around, searching the area for some sort of answer, "Who did this?" he asked.

"Well," Sam started, "I guess we know that it wasn't a demon."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, for one, we scratched Anasazi symbols on all the doors."

"But you said that Lilith can get past that sort of thing."

"Well, I don't know about Anasazi symbols, because they're a form of ancient ritual or magic. But she is definitely immune to the demon repellents such as sulphur and holy water."

"Well, this is just great, isn't it?" Dean exclaimed, "What are we going to do now? This is just so confusing," he moaned, following the small trail the truck left behind.

"Don't move assholes."

They heard a familiar voice behind them and turned, holding their hands up and facing a large man holding a gun to their faces.

Sam almost choked on his breathe, "Bo-"

"-Sam, that's not Bobby," Dean whispered, "Bobby died, it can't be him."

"Who are you?" He asked, "What do you want with me?"

Sam and Dean said nothing; they just eyed the gun and slowly walked backwards.

Bobby thrusted the gun forward, "Speak," he hissed.

Dean stepped forward and opened his mouth, but the words were drowned as another figure stepped into their midst, holding in his hands a similar weapon to what the fake Bobby was holding.

When Sam looked up at the new arrival's face, he gasped and suddenly he had no idea what the hell was going on.

"Two Bobby's?" Dean asked, rubbing his eyes to take another look, "This is mighty confusing, what the heck is happening?"

The Bobby's looked at each other and suddenly Dean and Sam were taken out of the picture and their eyes were fixed upon each other.

"What are you?" the first Bobby asked, "and who are they?" he gestured towards Sam and Dean.

Sam stepped forward, "I'm Sam Winchester, and what the hell is happening here?"

"You're not Sam Winchester," the first Bobby continued, "I watched Sam and his brother die six states away from here, so forgive me if I know that you're talking bullshit."

"Died?" Sam asked, "You're nuts!"

"Sam!" the second Bobby called, "I'm the real Bobby; don't listen to what he says. I just came back from a hunt and saw you with an impostor so I followed you here."

"But Bobby died!" Sam exclaimed, "We watched him. His body is in the back of our car as we speak."

"Think again, kid."

"What do you mean?"

The second Bobby didn't say a word. Keeping him weapon fixed upon the first Bobby, he beckoned the boys out of the path, to where they'd parked their car on the outskirts of the forest.

He looked at Sam and nodded, who walked over to the Impala and opened the back door, searching inside.

He let out a gasp for them all to hear, and when he came back he gave the second Bobby a suspicious look, "There's no body."

Dean looked shocked, "Does that mean...?"

"That one of them is the real Bobby, and one of them is fake?" Sam asked, "Well, Yes."

Dean had no idea what was happening, "What the _heck_ is going on!"

He took a breathe and looked away. They stood in silence for a few seconds, and when he looked back he turned to the second Bobby, "What is _your_ story, chuckles?"

"Well, after you'd saved Bella and went to see Catalus, I left and took on a few jobs. After one of my latest hunts, I'd come looking for you boys, because I'd found something that I think could help us. I saw you with another man, who looked strangely like me and I followed. It wasn't until now that I could show my face, after I thought that the impostor was dead. But when I looked into the back of the Impala, there was no body and I knew what this thing was going to do. If you remember, it was holding a gun to your head when I showed up, it is no friend of you."

Sam stepped forward, "And what is _it_ exactly?"

"Truthfully," he answered, "I have no idea. Possibly some form of Shape-shifter, which is my only guess, but there are other creatures that can change their form at will, besides the shape shifter."

Sam cast a strange look at Dean, "It was a good story, and it kind of fits too," he whispered.

"Yes," the first Bobby started, "A story, that is all it is."

"Then what do you think?" Sam demanded.

He kept on glaring at the brothers, "No more than twenty hours ago, I witnessed Sam and Dean Winchester being murdered, and I was able to gain a glimpse of the attacker," he paused for a second, "I escaped and the second I found a vehicle I came down here to where I'd stored my truck, and I moved it. I parked it less than fifty metres away from this place, and when I heard a few voices walking along that same path, that was when I followed you, and here we are."

Dean looked at him in amazement, "Dude, whatever you are, you're nuts. We're here, aren't we? Sam and I are alive, or do you think we're some kind of Demon as well?"

"Truthfully," he glared, "I don't know, but I swear to god that I'm going to find out. Unless you can see, I hold the weapon here, and none of you are leaving here until I get these answers."

"So," Sam started, "To determine which of you is real, why don't you both let us soak you with holy water, a quick and easy test."

"Wouldn't work," The second Bobby said, "Shape-Shifters are immune to your holy water there and would therefore prove nothing."

"Well," Dean suggested, "You could be wrong. What makes you so sure that what you're dealing with is a shape-shifter? Like you said, there are other creatures with pretty much the same ability who would most likely react to the holy water in the same way as any other."

It only happened for an instant, but in those few split seconds Sam caught a trace of fear etched into one of the Bobby's facial expression, and in that moment he knew.

"Dean, can I talk to you?" he asked, lowering his voice, "Privately?"

The Bobby's watched them anxiously as they walked away, whispering quietly to each other. When they had finished the two of them reapproached the Bobby's and Dean nodded to Sam who walked over to the Impala, opening the trunk and pulling out a large silver bottle, and walking over to stand next to Dean.

The first Bobby stepped forward and held his arms out, "Go on," he urged, "Pour that water on me and prove that I'm not a demon already."

Sam didn't hesitate for a second, but he twisted the lid open and moved cautiously towards the Bobby and threw some onto him. The water splashed onto his clothing and the skin on his left arm.

"See?" he whispered, "No effect at all, now do you believe me?"

"Hey, this doesn't rule you out at all, you're still as likely to be the evil one as he is," Dean answered, pointing over at the second Bobby.

Sam approached the second Bobby, who didn't move an inch, but stood his ground, as he was also soaked in the liquid.

Nothing happened.

The first Bobby still was unsure of the situation, "If you really are Sam and Dean, then throw that water upon yourselves and prove it to me."

"You don't believe that it is really us?" Sam asked.

"I watched you die, as I've already told you twice. You can't be alive, unless those other two were fakes."

"Well," Dean answered, "That is most likely true. You see, we also watched _you_ die, Bobby, – if that is who you truly are - which is why we're conducting these tests at the moment. So if you could kindly shut your trap hole, we can get this over with."

The first Bobby stood back and didn't say another word. The second Bobby seemed to be fidgeting a lot with himself, stepping sideways every few seconds and wincing as if holding back terrible pain.

Sam pointed this out to Dean, who pulled from his coat a silver pistol and aimed it at the second Bobby.

It couldn't hold it any longer. A horrible screech of pain echoed through the trees around them, and he collapsed to his knees, skin burning and the whites of his eyes glowing against the pale sun. "What is this!" he screamed "Holy water doesn't affect things like me!"

Dean laughed, "Gosh, this stuff is genius."

Sam looked at him, and then to the bottle in his hands, "that's not holy water?"

"Oh, it is," Dean smiled, "But its not regular water."

Sam looked back at the thing writhing on the ground and grinned, "Salt water?"

Dean laughed again, "Like I said, Genius."

Dean left Sams side and approached the thing on the ground, "Give it up, we know it is you."

The thing had stopped writhing and was now struggling beneath the large boot Dean had placed over him.

"What are you," Dean growled through clenched teeth, "Why are you here."

The answer to that became clear without words, when the skin from its back began to melt, the flesh itself falling off the bone, and Dean backed off as he saw what became of a shape-shifter as it shed its previous form.

The view was simply disgusting. It literally _pulled_ the skin from its back, throwing it onto the floor beneath him, and when it was finished the creature was barely human. This, it seemed, was its actual form.

What they looked upon nearly made them pass out in shock. Where there was once a replica human body, stood what looked like a lifeless form, completely scabbed and scarred, as if the flesh had been peeled from the skin, leaving it in complete bone and vein, blood and mucus dripping from its knees.

Mouth agape, Dean finally spluttered, "You're a shape-shifter?"

"No."

Sam looked confused, "Then what the heck _are_ you?"

It laughed, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Dean smirked, "There's a lot we can believe, as you should know."

"Okay," it said, looking over at the real Bobby, who stood motionless, "What if I told you that I'm a Demon in a Shape-shifters' body?"

"Well," Dean answered, "The first thing I'd do is ask, _why? _Of all the creatures and humans you could have taken over, why a shape-shifter? And I thought the law was that Demons can only possess other _humans_."

"You're right there," it smirked, "But what you didn't know is that I _can_ possess the dead body of a shape-shifter, because it is simply a human form, no longer able to use its incredible power. Being in a shape-shifters body means that I carry its immunity to things such as Holy Water. Though as you find, there are ways around that. As for why, well, I've been tracking you down, and I needed a body to possess in order to talk to you. Seeing as you all carry those pathetic amulets, I needed something else."

"Why were you following us, who sent you?"

"Oh, nobody sent me, don't you worry about that. But your friend over here isn't lying about watching you die. In fact, I saw exactly the same thing, I was there at the same time as he, and I watched you cower beneath my gun before I shot you both in the forehead. You can't be alive, it is not possible."

Bobby had stood silent all this time, and at these last few words, he seemed completely paralysed, struck by the words spoken by this being, as if they told a forbidden secret, something terrible.

"That's right, Bobby," it said, "You know, don't you."

Sam and Dean turned to Bobby, beginning to walk towards him, "What is it, Bobby?" Sam asked.

"Stay there!" The demon spat, "Don't move or I'll have the pleasure of watching you fall a second time."

"What is it?" Sam repeated, keeping his eyes glued upon Bobby.

The demon also turned to Bobby, and his eyes shone a ghastly black.

"H-He," Bobby spluttered, "He is-"

"What?"

"Sam, Dean," Bobby sighed, "That's your father."

* * *

**Sorry about any confusion! I didn't particularly like this chapter, to be honest, even though I wrote it =P When I planned the rewrite, this one was going to have a major change. But I didn't get far enough to re-write it, so I couldn't change it. In actual fact, I decided AFTER the last chapter that Bobby would still be alive =P Someone complained, so I worked in a way to keep him there.**

**Ah well, i'll post more in a few minutes. Cheers =D  
**


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Chapter 17**

"Dad?" Sam whispered.

Dean couldn't get any words from his own mouth, which was a first. He just stood with his mouth agape, staring down the man before him.

"This didn't come out exactly the way I'd planned," John smirked, "But lets get a few things straight."

Sam and Dean said nothing.

"I am not your father," he announced, "My name is Iahamu, and though I may have once been known as John Winchester, things have changed."

Once again, the brothers stood silent.

"You should know," he croaked, "You should know that whatever comes out of hell is never the same as what went in."

Sam spoke, "That's not true. What about Ruby? She had not changed, because she was never a bad person to begin with."

Iahamu smirked, "There are many things your father never told you about himself."

"Hang on;" Dean piped up, "You've only been missing for two years, which – by what we've heard about demons – is hardly enough time spent in hell to leave."

"Well, you're right there," Iahamu replied, "But there are certain things that have helped… speed the process."

When Sam and Dean resumed their silence, he continued, "After John tried to escape, he was placed into captivity, doomed to spend the rest of his days in terrible pain, strung up in that horrible place. In there, a few years can go by in few days, and seeing as your father spent years of _your_ time in that dreaded place, it would have been much, much more for him."

Dean's stomach dropped at these words. The thought of how long his father had suffered, just for those few moments with his sons. Hundreds of years. _Thousands_ of years, it made him sick.

"But we saved him!" Sam exclaimed, "We set him free!"

"No," Iahamu answered, "You set him loose.

"He was already too badly defeated and I had taken his place. When _I_ was set loose by you, I was already deemed as ready, and here I am, standing in front of you, inside what remains of your dear daddy."

Dean couldn't take it; he lifted his gun and cocked it. Iahamu stared down the barrel of the gun, that evil grin still etched upon his face.

"Dean, no!" Sam yelled, grabbing the gun and pulling it away, "As much as you don't want to believe it, that is dad there, and you're about to shoot him."

"That's not him. It can't be," Dean whispered.

"Dean, believe it," Iahamu piped up.

Dean then turned to him, "Prove it," he demanded with a tear in his eye, "Show us that you're not lying."

Smiling, Iahamu nodded and suddenly dropped to his knees, his face going red as if he was going to regurgitate something. Thick, black smoke then erupted from his mouth, moving into the air and forming a human shape, the fake body of Bobby falling to the ground.

In its place the body of John Winchester stood before them, and his eyes shone black once more to prove his power. Sam and Dean then realised how vulnerable they were at this moment.

Sam looked around, just realising the absence of Bobby. He was nowhere to be seen, but he didn't dwell on this, for Iahamu began to speak again.

"I've been on this earth for barely two weeks now, and my ultimate task was to find the two of you and watch you both die. I had an accomplice, but I believe he no longer lives, from what I saw in Idaho Springs when I arrived there this morning."

"_You_ worked with him?"

"You bet I did," Iahamu answered, "I was looking for the Crusaders Weapons myself when we ran into each other, and he told me his history with the artefacts. He also happened to own one at that moment. We began the hunt for the others together, and before long learned where to find the remaining two. But there was something that stood in our way."

Dean laughed, knowing what it was, "Yeah, we tend to do that a lot."

"Yes, you do. So the two of us split paths and I embarked on the search for you boys, while he continued looking for the items. You must have some very good friends, or some very deceiving enemies somewhere, for I was stalled halfway across the country with a few beings I thought were the two of you. If it wasn't for that, Walker would not have died and those weapons would be in my possession."

"I think I know where this is heading," Dean moaned, "Is this another one of those quick fix solutions? Kill the enemy and take the prize? 'Cause I'm sorry to tell you that's not how things work around here. There are plenty more where we came from, and rest assured they will find you and hang your head in their living room as a trophy over your death."

"Is that so?" Iahamu asked, "Well, at least there'll be two less to look out for, won't there?"

Dean held his gun steady, as a protective shield, and Iahamu laughed at him, "What good could that thing possibly do against me?" he asked, "If you think something as pathetic as that could hurt me, then you are sadly mistaken."

Dean knew this was true, but he kept it upright. Somehow it made him feel safer than he actually was. They were utterly defenceless, and Iahamu knew it.

Sam thought of something, "If you were working with Walker this whole time, do _you_ know where our friends are?"

"Why indeed I do," he smiled, "But I'm not going to tell you."

Bobby reappeared out of nowhere behind the brothers, and though Sam was expecting some kind of weapon to be in his hands, he held nothing.

"Nice of you to join us, Bobby," Iahamu said, "But too bad you didn't find what you were looking for," he pulled open his coat pocket and revealed the two weapons stashed neatly into his belt. He laughed, "I thought you'd be smarter than that. As if I would actually leave two of the most deadly weapons in the world for you to use.

He laughed, "Now I'm in control."

********

Dean's head ached, bruised from the impact of wooden cane against his temple. He was the only one clearly awake, and when he opened his eyes he saw Sam on one side of him and Bobby on the other. They were strung up by their hands from the rafters, and across the other side of the small room, also unconscious, hung Jo and Ellen. By the looks on their faces and the bruises on their wrists, they had been there a long time.

"Sam," Dean croaked, "Sam, can you hear me?"

No answer came, and Dean just sat cursing the pain that spread from his wrists down to his feet, dangling a few centimetres from the ground. His fingers were completely numb, and he was surprised that they hadn't completely parted from his body yet. But it was only a matter of time, he told himself.

Footsteps echoed from somewhere beyond the walls, and a figure appeared at the door behind him, though Dean could not see.

"Dean!" it exclaimed, "You're awake! Wow, is it play time already?"

Dean knew what was coming before it came, and if he had been on his feet his first reaction would have been to double up in pain, which being unable to do so made being slogged in the stomach by a wooden bat all the more painful.

"You son of a bitch."

Iahamu slogged him once more, "That's my mother you're talking about."

"Your mother has been dead for thirty years, Dad."

Another whack. "First, I'm not your father, and second," whack, "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Dean felt like his stomach would explode beneath the pain, but he held himself steady and glared at the figure of his father. "Go on, Dean. Say something else," he smiled, "Anything. Just remember that every word has a cost."

"Wow, if I had a nickel for every time I heard that."

Whack.

"Okay, okay," Dean whispered, "But why don't you just kill me already, why do you insist on keeping me here?"

"Because there are other things that would reward me highly for handing you in, you, your brother and your pathetic friends. I'll be famous among demons."

"Yeah, and then hunted down and killed by the rest of our kind."

"Probably true, but I have ways of disguising myself, I think that I'll manage."

"I think you underestimate our tracking skills. You see," he said, "This is why we always come out on top."

"On top, huh?" Iahamu laughed, "Well, we'll see about that now, won't we."

"Sure will."

"Well, I've sent somebody out into the bushes, I'll hand you over to Lucifer, and he will do as he wished with you."

Dean became edgy at this.

"Don't worry, Dean. It will all be over in a few hours. For you and your friends."

Above their heads, the small patter of feet on tin roof echoed through the room. Quietly, Iahamu gagged Dean to stop him from yelling out, and ordered one of his servants to go and check it out. "Kill anyone you find," he whispered.

"Is this your doing?" he laughed at Dean, "This is pathetic. An ill-fated rescue mission is under way. Exactly the pathetic kind of thing I'd expect you to do."

Iahamu left the room, but didn't stray far. Dean could see his shadow lingering beyond the doorway, waiting for something. The night became deathly quiet, and a harsh silence struck the room.

A high screech erupted from somewhere outside, and Dean knew instantly that someone was in pain. He sincerely hoped that it was the demon, but didn't trust himself to hope.

The silence resumed and Dean suddenly heard Sam splutter. He tried to call to him, but it was impossible. Sam opened his eyes and looked to his left at Dean, who nodded to him and immediately Sam fell quiet, understanding what his brother was saying. Something was going down, and the smallest sound could ruin it.

Iahamu walked into the room once more, smiling and convinced that the situation was under control. He approached Sam and also pushed a gag into his mouth. He did the same to the sleeping victims, just incase they woke up while he was unable to stop them.

"Stay still and this wont hurt."

Iahamu looked shocked as a weapon was held against his neck, a masked individual standing behind him. A second person entered the room and as Iahamu was pulled off to the side, he came to untie the brothers.

All of a sudden Iahamu began to laugh and everybody stopped to look at him. He burst out, "You pathetic humans, you should know that we demons hold power that will overcome the lot of you. I could shrug this bastard off my back in a matter of seconds."

"Is that so?" A woman's voice echoed through the room, and its owner walked into the room.

Dean couldn't believe his eyes, "Lenore?" he whispered, "What is this, some reunion of freaks? I feel like I'm at a Halloween party!" Though he had never been happier to see a vampire in his life.

"Always the same charm from you, isn't it Dean," answered, "Some people don't change. But it is nice to see you too."

"Aww come on, that was harsh. I didn't mean it that way."

She walked right past him and confronted Iahamu, "We're no hunters, jackass."

His mouth agape, Iahamu realised the danger that he was in, and in an instant his body dissolved into nothing more than a liquid, falling through the cracks in the floor.

Sam was speechless, "How did you find us?" he asked, a shocked expression etched onto his face.

"Well, you should know that once a vampire catches your scent, it's for life. That is the same for us, though we're not regular vampires."

"Why did you come for us?" Dean asked, wishing that they would untie him already.

"If it wasn't for you boys, we wouldn't still be alive, most likely we'd be extinct, wiped out. We owe you our lives, and we know now that something big is going down, so we thought we would pay you back."

"Well, you certainly came at the right time, and I must say…" Dean seemed to have a little trouble bringing the words from his mouth, and Lenore stared at him, waiting, "Thankyou."

"Much more than I expected from you, Dean, I must say," Lenore answered, smiling at him.

Dean was becoming impatient, and all the heartfelt words were making him uneasy, "Could somebody untie me already?" he asked, and one of the vampires approached him with a long, silver knife and cut him loose.

When Sam and Bobby were also free, Sam beckoned over to Jo and Ellen, and before long they were resting down in the corner of the room.

"How much do you know of what we're doing?" Sam asked Lenore when they had sat down.

"Well, the legends of the Crusaders go way back, and you would be interested to know that vampires played a large part in that war against Lucifer."

"On which side?" Dean asked, "They can't have been like you, I've never heard of something like that before you came along and screwed up that balance."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, they weren't working for Lucifer either. They were on their own side, and they wanted a peace between the difference species. But of course that didn't go down well with Lucifer, who's sole purpose was to rule all who lived upon the earth, nor was it taken kindly by the humans, who believed the only way to settle a matter like this was to wipe out the opposing enemy. It was from that time onwards that vampires were seen as a threat and began to be widely targeted."

Sam just thought of something, "Was that _you_ who sent those shape-shifters in our place?"

Lenore laughed, "Sure was, kiddo. That makes it twice that we've saved your life lately."

Sam smiled, and looked towards his brother.

"I wish they would wake up already," Dean moaned, looking over towards Ellen and Jo.

"Dean," Sam started, "If you remember, Jo still doesn't know that you're alive, so you'll have to be careful."

With everything that had been going on, Dean had completely forgotten about that, and wondered what she would say when she woke up and saw him standing above her.

Sam stood up and sat down next to Ellen and Jo with a bottle of water. He splashed a little on both of their faces, though it did nothing. Once or twice in the next few hours, a few small movements were made by the two of them, which were reassuring sounds, though neither woke up for a long time.

The first to open their eyes was Jo, and Dean rushed to her side as she stared up into his face. Her first look was of disbelief, and Sam assumed that she was too sore to say anything. She looked over at Sam, who nodded and she lay back down, breathing deeply. She whispered to Dean for some water, and he instantly fetched it. Her arms were bruised, and she could barely move them. Being strung up wasn't the most comfortable position to spend three days.

Lenore brought in a stack of food they had picked up from a local 'handimarket', and Jo scoffed down half the lot in only a few minutes. It seemed as if they weren't fed either.

Lenore confronted Sam; "We have to be out of here soon. With his knowledge, Lucifer will already know we're here."

"We must wait a little longer," Sam replied, "There is some information that we may need. Jo said it was important."

"Okay, but no more than an hour or two. The first light of day will appear in three hours, and we should be well away before then, especially if Iahamu called upon Lucifer. We're just not ready at this moment."

Sam nodded and she went for another walk outside. He stood up and walked across the room to where Dean and Jo were talking quietly to each other.

"Oh, 'm I interrupting something?"

"Of course you are," Dean replied, "You have a strange habit of doing that."

"Ha ha, very funny. Well, can I ask you something, Jo?"

"Sure, I guess. But I'm still curious about how you saved Dean from that dreadful place."

Sam laughed, "Yeah, okay. Well, anyway, when you called me that day in the car, you told me there was something important you had to tell me. Could you tell us now?"

She looked into Dean's face, "I'd completely forgotten about that, I'm sorry. Well, I contacted a few of my friends who are well connected within hunters. They scrounged up some information for me. I could go into details but the main thing is that I know where Lilith hides out."

This was bigger than Sam had expected, "Really? Where?"

"You know the underground caves in Waterloo? The ones that were shut down and enclosed because it was prone to flooding?"

"The ones in Wisconsin?" Dean asked, "Yeah, actually I do know them."

"You do?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, one of Dad's good friends had a brother who died in those caves, around the same time they were closed down."

"You never told me that."

"Its just something I heard, Sammy. Its not one of those things that I would bother to remember, its just the subject that drew my attention to it."

"Whatever. Jo, have you got somewhere you can stay?" Sam asked her, "You know, because we'll be taking off soon."

"Of course," she replied.

"Err, Sam?" Dean questioned, "I think the best place would be a hospital for now, you see those injuries she has? Not to mention her mother, who hasn't even woken yet."

"Okay, okay. But I was told that we have to leave soon, so help me start loading our things into the Impala."

"The Impala? Its _here_?" he asked.

Sam laughed, "How do you think we got here. Demons can't fly, Dean."

"Well, I..."

"Just help me, would you?"

By the time they were ready to leave, Bobby was awake too and (though they had to prove to him that they were the actual Winchesters) Sam and Dean asked him to take Ellen and Jo to the nearest hospital. He took off ten minutes before they left, taking one of the many cars the vampires had brought with them.

At last count, there were no less than twenty vampires waiting outside. Only the three had come in to help. Sam thanked them, and got into the Impala with Dean.

Lenore came to the window, "We're going to stick around for a little while more, keep an eye on things, you know. I'm sure you'll be able to take on Lilith no problem at all. We'll catch up afterwards."

Dean laughed, "Lilith isn't as easy target as you think. It just seems like it because a higher power has risen. Trust me, this will be no easy task."

"Well, good luck to you then," she wished him.

"Yeah," Dean whispered as she left, "You too."

They drove off towards the east, following the mountain range, a soft light rising above them to mark the beginning of what was sure to be a very eventful Wednesday.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Chapter 18**

"Really makes you think, doesn't it?"

They were less than two hours from the border of Minnesota and Wisconsin, and they'd been sitting quiet ever since they'd passed through South Dakota, but at last Dean had broken the silence.

"About what?"

Dean looked at him, "Well, if Lenore hadn't come to our rescue this morning, we'd both be fluffing up the pillows in our coffins right now."

"Yes, aren't you glad now that we didn't let Gordon slaughter them?"

"Yeah, but it really does make you wonder," he started, pausing to think for a second, "Well, of all the creatures that we killed without taking a backwards glance, I mean," he paused again for a breath, "How many of them could have changed? How many could we actually have lived in harmony with, hell, even become allies with."

"Not too many, you know," Sam replied, "If you really think about it. But I agree with you on some scale, there are many things we have killed that either weren't pure evil, or didn't deserve to die."

"Didn't deserve to die?" Dean questioned.

"Well, yeah," Sam began, "Remember Madison the werewolf back in Michigan? She didn't deserve to die, yet our only choice was to kill her."

Dean laughed, "Your girlfriends never seem to last long, do they?"

Sam said nothing. The crying face of Madison crept into the corners of his mind, and his stomach dropped violently at the thought, the memory of her last moments before he pulled the trigger and ended her life.

"All I'm saying is, you really need to loosen up, have some fun once in a while."

"Yeah, well, I'm not like you, am I?"

"Damn right."

They'd crossed into one of the smaller cities of the area, and were driving slowly down one of the main roads, looking for somewhere they could hide out until it was time to jump into action.

Dean looked out the window as they passed a fancy looking motel, dolphin statues rising above them out the front on the green lawn, spitting water from its snout. The triple storey building was glossed with a pearly yellow paint, and Dean couldn't keep his eyes off the swimming pool down the side, where a group of young ladies were swimming and basking in the sunlight.

Without hesitating, Dean turned the steering wheel and drove into the front entrance, "What do you say we treat ourselves, huh Sam?"

With a big grin on his face.

Sam looked at the time, "Okay, we have six hours until Lilith appears, so what do you think we should do?"

********

Dean was peering out the window, watching the happenings down in the pool.

"Dean, get your head out of the gutter."

"You want to know what I think we should do?" he grinned, glancing back out the window.

He needn't say anymore, Sam knew exactly what was on his mind. Sam cleared his throat loudly to gain Dean's attention, and Dean turned to him, "Come on! This is too good an opportunity to pass!"

"Tell you what," Sam started, "Once Lilith is lying in her deathbed, we can come back and we'll rest for a day or two, and you can have all the fun you want then."

Dean though for a second, and then he turned from the window and nodded his head, walking over and sitting down on the couch. "So what's the plan, Sammy?"

"Well, maybe we ought to go and have a look at the caves, before we actually have to face Lilith, as we have no idea what we're going to find when we get there."

"Okay..." Dean answered, "And what is your take on killing Lilith, how the heck are we going to manage that?"

"Well, we _do_ own two of the crusaders weapons, that has to count for something."

"Knowing her, she'll already know that we're going to be there."

"You want to back out now? Go home and sleep safely in your bed because this is too dangerous for you, huh?"

"Sure would be better than this."

"Come on, let's go."

* * *

Iahamu paced around his own room, surrounded by no less than thirty of his own servants. They all stood quietly, waiting for him to cast his bidding onto them.

One of his servants stepped forward, "How are we to kill Astaroth, we do not even own a weapon!"

Iahamu turned to his follower, "Do not worry, my friend, the brothers will bring their own, and in this time we will seize control, release Lucifer from his unholy prison and unleash him upon the world. In return we shall be rewarded beyond our wildest dreams."

"Will he not have us killed?"

"If you are loyal to him, respect him and do what he would like, there will be no reason for him to hold any grudges and you will all live the rest of your lives in his service. If you try something, be sure that you will not live to see the next suns rise."

"But Iahamu," Another began, "Those weapons represent pure goodness, and that is something that none of us are capable of wielding."

"True," Iahamu agreed, "But that isn't one hundred percent accurate. Lilith has wielded her own weapon many times before; there is a certain ritual that can be taken which will reduce the effects of this for a short time. If all goes to plan, this time should be enough to take care of Lilith and flee, though we will not have time enough to escape with it."

"So we're just going to leave it with those Winchester boys?"

"Remember, we need them to follow us, without them our plan is useless."

Iahamu kept on pacing, a plan forming itself together in his mind.

"Have you found Lilith?" One of the servants asked.

"She is at the caves, awaiting the hour of her reckoning. She realised that it was not safe in the open world at this time, and took refuge a little early. Do not fear, our traps are all in place, and it will not be long before Lucifer is free; it will not be long before the world is shrouded in darkness once more. The Earth will go back to the way it was, all those years ago after the fall of Satan and the birth of Hell."

Without warning, another servant ran into the room. "We have news. Astaroth has been captured, but the magic will not hold her off for too much longer."

"Do not fear, the ritual will be over in a few hours. First we must wait for the brothers to arrive. We must plan this out carefully, these brothers are not to be underestimated. I am under no false impression that they do not have the power to destroy us all, because that would be wrong. They may only be mortal, but the things these boys have accomplished are phenomenal, and we must be cautious."

* * *

Following their road map closely, they came to the entrance of the caves, some few miles along a dirt road leading off highway 94. The caves were as inconspicuous as could be, marked only by a small sign, ragged and stained with dirt, and a broken down warning sign embedded in the turf beside the entrance.

Sam looked down at the watch on his wrist, which told him they had little more than twenty minutes before Lilith was due to arrive. The world was darkened, and the air was icy.

They parked the car a little further along the road as a safety measure and proceeded down into the cave, walking cautiously and quietly, not knowing what to expect down in the darkness.

They turned on a small lamp and the cave was instantly cast in a shallow light, allowing them only a small range of vision, but it was vision none the less.

"Do you think Lilith is already here?" Dean asked, stepping over something that looked scarily like human bones.

"No," Sam replied with an air of confidence, "She won't come until the last minute, I'm sure of it."

"That'd better be true."

Sam reached into the pack he held on his back and felt around for the weapon they would be using. He stopped and pulled it off his back, searching more thoroughly, before turning to Dean, "It's not there."

"What do you mean, it's not there? I saw you put it in!"

They turned slowly behind them, making sure that nobody was there, "Maybe we should head back to the car," Dean suggested, holding up the pistol he was holding, "I don't think this 45' is going to do much against a creature like Lilith."

"I don't think so."

A scarily familiar voice rose from the shadows and echoed throughout the cave around them. Sam held the lamp as far above his head as he was able, trying to see further than the light was willing to give. But he didn't have to wait long. There were at least twenty of them, all in a perfect circle surrounding them, and coming closer with each passing moment.

They stopped within a few feet of the brothers, and from behind them Iahamu broke through the circle and was facing the brothers, twirling the small silver weapon in his hands.

"I'm assuming that this is some feeble attempt to rid yourselves of Lilith?" he sniggered, "Come, boys, I'd like you to witness this."

He said no more and signalled for his followers to carry Sam and Dean with them. They walked slowly down through the caves, slowly descending further and further underground, until they came to a room at the end of the long hallway, illuminated completely by a large lamp hung on the ceiling.

Lilith stood in one corner of the room, looking as if there was nothing more that she would like in that moment than to lash out at Iahamu's throat, tear out his insides and dangle them out in front of his nose.

It was in this moment that Sam realised what was keeping her back. Countless patterns of ancient rituals and strange symbols painted the ceiling above her, though Sam had never seen anything like it. Whatever it was, it sure was powerful.

"You have no idea what you're unleashing, Iahamu," Lilith whispered, "This will destroy us all."

"No, this will free us all," he answered, "This will be the beginning of a new world, a better world in which us demons can live in peace. As for you humans," He cast a glance at Sam and Dean, "Lets just say you won't be as lucky."

Sam could feel the power radiating from his captors, their muscular limps holding him and Dean at their sides. "Tie them down," Iahamu ordered, and instantly they dragged the brothers into the corner opposite Lilith and they were bound tightly together.

Iahamu turned to Lilith and smiled, "I know why you don't want this to happen. You've had Lucifer under your influence for a long time now, have you not? He will not be happy with you, will he."

Lilith just stared at him, anger radiating from her glaring eyes.

"What do you mean 'destroy us all'?" Sam piped up, "Unleash what?"

Iahamu looked at him in surprise, "All this fighting, and you don't even know what the manuscripts are used for?"

"Of course we do," Dean spat, "The Ancient Manuscripts of Vanatuhi are used to manipulate and partially control happenings in hell, as a kind of replacement leader after Vanatuhi vanished. When used correctly, performing the Parcaex Ritual - as has been done - unleashes from the depths of hell the devil himself."

Iahamu nodded, "But do you know exactly _how _much influence those manuscripts have over the underworld itself?"

Sam and Dean said nothing. It seemed from the way he was talking that they had missed something, and it would cost them.

Iahamu nodded, "Yes, I thought as much. Let me explain." He cleared his throat and turned to check upon Lilith before beginning, "The Ancient Manuscripts of Vanatuhi is the most powerful object on this Earth. Not only do they have the power to manipulate hell, but also they have the power to _control _it. These manuscripts have more power than anybody could ever dream of, but there are limits to its use. The awesome power of these scripts can only be fully tapped into by one being, and it doesn't take a genius to guess which one. Without their power controlling hell, a demon could never cross the path between hell and earth. Though the destruction of the manuscripts is near impossible, and it is known that there is simply one method of doing so, and it is very rare. You could say that the manuscripts actually _are_ hell.

"The Parcaex Ritual, once performed, does indeed bring Lucifer back from his fiery grave, but his power is all but useless to him. At the current time, Lucifer is under the influence of Astaroth, - or Lilith as you may know her - but that can all change in a matter of seconds. You see, once Astaroth here is dead, something of even greater power will be unleashed. My master will be free at last."

Sam had a horrified look on his face, he just couldn't believe it. Dean was edgy tied to Sam's back, and he couldn't see as well and was fidgeting as a result trying to move into a better position.

"But first," he whispered, walking towards Lilith, "I need to know where you have hidden the manuscripts. There is little time left, and you are going to tell me."

"Go to hell."

"I'll see you there, hun," he smiled, "I'll have to find them myself, won't I?"

"Once your grip over Lucifer ceases, he will be unstoppable."

He smiled viciously, turning to check upon the brothers before walking towards Lilith once more.

"That time has now come." he finished with an ice-cold tone.

As if triggered by the end of his speech, Lilith began to jerk wildly where she stood, her head twitching and her image flickering. Dean turned his head to its maximum reach to watch the events unfolding, and Sam was simply stunned. This hadn't turned out how they had planned at all.

The noise was utterly deafening. The echoes of Liliths screams and howls penetrated their ears and when everything went silent Sam looked up, as Lilith's face began to swell wildly. This was but the eye of the hurricane.

And then it all came out. Deep black smoke filled the room, and crashing sounds of thunder erupted with it. At long last Liliths true form came out of its shell, and devil-red eyes glared out from its shadowy form. It let out a long howl and Iahamu drew once more from his pocket the silver knife he had stolen from Sam.

It was all just too easy. After all this time hunting, searching for Lilith, sacrificing so much along the way, the job was about to be taken care of for them. Though Sam knew that although Lilith was out of the picture, a completely new evil had taken her place, one which seemed to be much more powerful and threatening.

It all took place in a few seconds. It seemed much too quick for something so dramatic. With one strikingly swift movement, Iahamu struck the dark creature with the small dagger, piercing what could be called its body. The thing let out a terrible cry, before it seemed to implode upon itself, scattered remains of its outer shell disappearing into the thickness of the air around them. And Lilith was no more.

The silence struck them all hard, and an unknown energy passed through the room. Thunder erupted from somewhere outside, and a wide smile spread across Iahamu's face.

"My work is done here." he said, gesturing towards Sam and Dean, "Let them go, they are no use to me dead."

_Use? _Sam thought to himself, _what does he mean?_

Sam and Dean were untied, and within seconds Iahamu was nowhere to be seen, and the brothers were left to find their own way out. The two of them didn't speak a word the entire trip, and yet they knew that their quest for the past few months had been completed. Though it didn't feel like the end. This was but another stepping-stone.

They rest for a few minutes and then walked out into the strangely hot night air, but stopped instantly and glanced upwards.

The sky was masked in a deep, blood red, and in the distance it was almost as if they could hear a terrible roar rising above the clouds.

They both knew it, and in his shock Dean whispered into the arisen darkness, "_Lucifer."_


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Note - **Thanks for reading. Not far to go!

**Chapter 19  
**

When morning came the earth was still darkened by the blood red sky, which gave no intention of becoming lighter in the hours to come.

"Why would Iahamu leave us the weapon, it's a bit suspicious isn't it?"

Dean sat biting his teeth into a large burger, and trying to speak amongst all his chicken and salads, "Suspicious?"

"Well, I'm not sure, but it seemed as if when he held the weapon it was causing him a lot of pain, judging by the expressions on his face, anyway. And then there's the fact that he said he needed us alive for some reason too. I'm starting to get a little uneasy."

"You think he left it to us on _purpose_? Why the heck would he do that?"

"I don't know, but I think we're walking into a trap here, Dean."

"Well, we'll jump that hurdle when we arrive at it, won't we. Until then we have to figure out our next move."

Sam looked at him, "Which is?"

"Well, it seems that the manuscripts are still flying loose around somewhere, and I think we should find them before going after Iahamu or Lucifer."

"But you heard what Iahamu said, Dean, we can't use them! Only the original castor of the Parcaex Ritual can use the manuscripts to control Lucifer."

"You're right," Dean agreed, "We can't use them against him. I think we should destroy them."

"Destroy them? Did you listen to nothing that was said? The destruction of the manuscripts means that the border between Hell and Earth cannot be crossed, and therefore Lucifer will remain here to destroy the entire earth once more, unable to be killed."

"Well, in any case we should keep them in our possession, make sure that nobody else gets that chance. When the time comes and Lucifer is dead, then we can destroy them."

"But what about all the other demons that we haven't killed? Won't they just remain here forever, defying death?"

"Sammy, there are other places a demon goes when it is killed, depending on the method you use."

"And what about Lucifer?"

"I don't think so. Lucifer resides within Hell, one could go so far as to call it his 'home', and as far as I've heard in legends, Hell is the one place that Lucifer can be sent back to. It's almost an invincibility kind of thing, as if he will always come back eventually."

Sam smiled, "Not if we close the gates on him."

"Damn right."

"But we're going to have to be careful, we don't know what Iahamu has in store for us, but whatever it is, it sure as hell can't be good."

"I agree, but we'll deal with that later, first we have to find those manuscripts before he does."

"We should carefully watch our steps up 'till then too, for all we know he's just using us to get to the manuscripts. We don't want to be tracked."

"We also need to find that third crusaders knife, I don't recall seeing either Lilith or Iahamu with it, so it must be somewhere else."

"I'd bet that it's hidden wherever the manuscripts are, and my best guess is with another demon. Lilith isn't stupid enough to trust a hidden location."

"So where do you think we should start?"

"First let us find Lenore, maybe they have some idea."

Dean grinned, "Lets hit the road then, Sammy!"

********

The trip back was very quiet, and neither of them spoke a word. Sam was staring out the window at the landscape around them, which had been cast into a deep shadow after the release of Lucifer. Sam almost expected him to jump out at any second, and it was near impossible for him to mentally picture the destruction he would cause.

Dean was also in deep thought, thinking about possible hiding places or people with whom Lilith would trust the most powerful weapon known to man, but in the end just a stack of new questions arose.

As they came into the small town of Waterloo once more, they instantly knew that something was wrong. Turrets of smoke billowed from a raging fire set in the heart of the town, and the streets were empty, as residents had run into their homes for cover.

They drove through the streets and came to the scene of the fire. Half the street was aflame, many of the houses with little wood left to burn on them. Among these houses was number 13 where Bobby, Lenore and her followers were staying.

Deans mouth sat agape, staring at the wreckage, "What the…?"

"Maybe they weren't in there," Sam suggested hopefully, his eyes watering from the heat of the flames, "Maybe they got out."

"Bobby took Ellen and Jo to the hospital, he could have stayed with them…"

"No, he would have gone back to help."

"Can vampires be killed from flames?"

"A vampire can only be killed from decapitation, but if they were in there when it happened, I don't think they'd have a head for much longer, the fire would turn their entire bodies to ashes."

"Great," Dean muttered, "Now what the hell are we going to do? We've lost our backup, Bobby and any chance of finding those manuscripts. We're boned."

Sam was looking around hopefully, for some sign that they'd escaped, possible emerging out of some nearby yard where they'd been keeping safe for the moment. But in his heart he knew it was hopeless.

After waiting around for another 10 minutes observing the wreckage, they drove to the opposite side of town and bought out a hotel room for the rest of the week, right beside the hospital.

"Think we should check up on Ellen and Jo?" Dean asked, laying down on his bed, "If not, I'd like some rest, it's been a long morning."

"I guess we can sleep for a few hours, and later we'll go check on them."

"What if they're not ever there?"

"I called the hospital just five minutes ago, they said that they're both unconscious but they're still checked in, and alive."

"Good," Dean replied, turning over onto his stomach and pushing his head into the pillow, "I haven't had a good sleep in a long time."

Sam laughed, "Dean you were dead for over three weeks, how much more sleep do you want?"

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly 'at rest' now, was I?"

Sam slept uneasily; falling slowly into another place, another time, and watching strange events unfold around him in clear detail.

It was in an old house of some sort, and two figures stood in the small-unfurnished room, one tall and brunette, the second small and blonde. It took Sam no time at all to recall their names.

"Lenore," Lilith spoke, "I have a task for you."

"Anything," Lenore replied.

"I fear a disturbance in our plan for Lucifer, and I'm not exactly sure who is behind it, but I can feel their energy force, and it is astounding."

"The brothers?"

"No, it is… something else."

"Surely this thing is no match for you, Lilith."

Lilith looked out the window, staring off into the sun, "I don't know," she whispered.

They stood in silence, Lenore watching Lilith carefully. "What is it that you would like me to do?"

Lilith turned back to her, "I need you to take these," she said, holding out a small box, "Inside contain one of the rarest and most powerful weapons in the world, the other is the Manuscripts of Vanatuhi."

Lenore looked shocked, "Why are you giving these to me! I have even less power than you when it comes to protecting them."

Lilith ignored this. "Whatever you do, you must not let Lucifer obtain them. _More_ importantly, you must keep them hidden from Sam and Dean Winchester."

"But where shall I go! Sam and Dean Winchester will find me, wherever on this Earth I hide. It is not possible."

"No, that is true. That is why I have a much better idea."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"Go and find the Winchester boys, befriend them. Gain their trust. They will never suspect something that is right under their noses. You could even help them. Remember, there are more than two sides to this war, and I want the third eliminated, and this may be the perfect way to crash in on the Winchesters."

Lenore nodded, and took the box, "Is that all?"

"That is all." Lilith replied.

* * *

Dean and Sam scoffed down a quick breakfast, and Sam hadn't said a word the whole time.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked.

"Nothing."

Dean sighed, "Sammy, I've known you since the day you were born, and for the last five years we've been together constantly, so I know when something's up."

"I had another dream."

To any normal person, these words would have meant nothing, but nothing good ever came from these, and Dean knew it.

"Who?"

"Lenore and Lilith."

"Together?"

"Yeah."

"Like, together together? On the same side together?"

"How many other 'togethers are there?"

"Well, of course there's the-"

"Okay, stop. I saw Lilith and Lenore talking, _planning_ things, and Lilith specifically told Lenore to befriend us."

"Oh well, it doesn't matter anyway. Their bodies have rotted beneath the flaming wreckage of the house, we don't need to worry about them anymore."

"We should still be careful, for all we know they weren't anywhere near the house when it burned down."

"In any case, we decided to go and see Jo and Ellen this morning, yes?"

"Yeah, but let us finish breakfast first, I haven't eaten in an age."

Sam laughed, standing up and walking towards the exit, "Yeah, right."

Dean followed, picking up his two bacon and egg rolls as he went and walking at Sam's heels. They crossed the road and walked along the side-path down to the end of the street where they came to the Waterloo Base Hospital.

The reception was cold, and the air smelled of overdone cleanliness.

"I always hated hospitals," Dean muttered, "Its so quiet that it kills me."

"What'd you expect?"

"Nothing, I just don't like them."

They followed along the hallways and turned a corner, finally coming into Ward 6B, and led in by a short, blonde nurse.

"You'll be happy to know that one woke up this morning," she told them, leading them around a set of curtains.

Jo and Ellen lay in their beds, both of their faces pale but the life was slowly creeping back into Ellen's', who smiled widely as they walked in.

"Hey, boys."

"Ellen," Sam nodded, "Glad to see you awake."

She laughed, "You almost sound like you've been here before, but you're not that kind of guy, I know it."

"Guilty."

Dean was stuck in his thoughts of the fire and the wreckage, and Ellen must have seen it in his face, because she asked, "What happened?"

Sam sighed, and told her a shortened version of the story, telling of Iahamu and his speech, then the death of Lilith and how they let him escape, as well as what their next moves were going to be.

"...But when we got back, it was up in flames. Nobody could have survived something like that."

"But maybe they weren't in there at the time," Ellen suggested, "They could have gotten out."

"For Bobby's sake, I hope they did," Dean replied.

Ellen looked over to him, "What do you mean?"

Sam hadn't planned on telling her about the dream, but he had no other choice now. She was an extremely curious person. He'd finished telling her and there was a short silence.

"But, maybe it _was_ just a-"

"Just a dream?" Dean asked, "Yeah, I've attempted to convince myself the same thing so many times, and every single time I've been wrong. Sammy here just doesn't have regular dreams, ands that's all there is to it. They're _never _wrong. There is something fishy about Lenore, and if she _did _make it out of there alive the first thing I'll do when I see her is put a bullet in her head."

"Yes, Dean," Sam added sarcastically, "Because that's going to do a hell of a lot of damage, isn't it?"

Dean stopped and thought for a second, "But why would she do it? Why, after all we've done for _them_, would they just turn against us like that?"

"Well, for one I think our saving their lives was probably the reason they didn't kill us on the spot, and Lilith didn't ask her to kill us anyway, only to stop us from getting to the manuscripts."

"They must have thought that Lilith would finish the job when we left, because they didn't try to stop us now, did they."

"What I want to know is what all this fuss about keeping us alive is about. What would they possibly need us for? The idea of it kinda scares me."

"Well," Ellen said, "When they let me out of this place, I'll be sure to help you with that. Until then, you'd better leave, you both have some work to do."

********

"So," Sam began, "Have any ideas as to what our next move is?"

They sat in the Impala, driving aimlessly along towards the next town to where they would book themselves into the closest hotel they could find and rest until their plan was complete.

Dean laughed at the notion, "Not a clue, Sammy."

"Nothing?"

"Well, so far we've gotten through all of this with a lot of luck and extremely suspicious timing, in fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised if some sign just sprung out of nowhere to hint us in the right direction."

Barely two seconds later Deans' phone began to ring, and Sam reached into the back seat to retrieve it. "Hello?"

_"Sam," _A voice called through the speaker, _"It's Lenore, where are you?"_

Sam looked at Dean, who turned down the speaker volume in the car so that he could hear further, "Where've you been?" Sam answered, "We got back to the house and it was completely aflame!"

_"Yeah, well I-"_

Sam didn't hear any more, for Dean pulled it from Sam's grasp and shoved it towards his own ear.

"Dean, don't," Sam whispered.

Dean ignored him, "Listen, hun, we know what you're up to. Yeah that's right, we know the whole deal. Lilith asked you to stay with us, protecting the Manuscripts right under our noses. I swear, once we get a hold of you, you will be sorry."

He hung up. Sam glared at him, his mouth agape, "_Are you out of your mind?_" he yelled, "What the hell was that!?"

"What?"

"We don't know the whole story, Dean! You didn't have to go yelling like that."

"I think it has become pretty clear, Sam, that they're not who we thought they were. You should have listened to me when we first encountered them."

"No, Dean. Its just that none of this fits! It was a little suspicious, Yes! But-"

"But _what_?" Dean emphasised, looking over at him.

"I don't know," Sam suddenly lowered his voice, "It just doesn't _feel _right."

Dean just ignored him.

"Well," Sam started, "Even if they _were_ what you think they are, you've just completely lost our best chance of defeating them. They didn't know that we know all of that, so we lost a crucial advantage. Nice going, genius."

********

For the next twenty minutes, the two of them sat in silence, neither looking at the other as Dean drove.

The silence was only broken when Deans cell phone began to ring again, and this time Dean answered.

"Hello?"

"_Dean?"_

"Lenore," he growled, "What do you want now?"

"Dean, listen to me, this isn't what you think it is."

"Okay? Then what is it, huh?"

"_You saw this in a dream of Sam's, did you not?"_

Dean paused, and said nothing. Lenore assumed that she was correct and Dean replied, "How do you know about Sam's visions?"

At this, Sam leaned over and snatched the phone from his grasp, "Lenore?"

"_Sam."_

"What do you know about my visions?"

She laughed, "_Well, for one I know why you get them, but also I happen to know how too."_

Sam was shocked, but was almost certain that she was lying. "Then tell me, how then, huh?"

"_Sam, I really don't have time to explain it properly, I will tell you another time, but not now. What you need to know is that they're put into your mind to make you insecure and think things that aren't exactly true. I have in fact been in contact with Lilith for a long time now, but definitely not in the same league with her. You must help me to help you, Sam."_

"How do we know to trust you?"

"_Because I have something that you need, and you know what I mean."_

"The manuscripts?"

"_Meet me at the Church on the eastern edge of the Wyoming railway at 2am if you think you can trust me. I'll be alone."_

She hung up. Sam passed the phone back to Dean, who looked at him, "You're not seriously falling for this are you?"

"Well…"

"But what if it's a trap? I mean, you dreamed that she was conversing with Lilith did you not? She's leading us into something and I don't think we should follow."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

Dean thought about coming up with some kind of retaliation, but thought better of it, before groaning and swinging the steering wheel around, doing a full U-Turn and heading back in the opposite direction towards Wyoming.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. Not too long to go!! Review, thanks ^_^**


	21. Chapter Twenty

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Chapter 20**

Night had fallen by the time they arrived in Wyoming, and Dean was fast asleep in the front passenger seat. Sam struggled to keep awake, rounded eyes sleepily guiding the Impala towards its destination: The eastern side of the largest Devils Trap known to man.

After five minutes, Dean began to stir, and Sam reached over towards him, giving him a little shake. He sat up, yawning, "Eh? What is it…? We almost there?"

"Not yet, Dean. But I was thinking that maybe we should have a back up plan, just in case something goes foul, you know?"

He pulled himself into an upright position and absorbed what Sam was saying. "Yeah of course I know, I've been wearing them on my feet for the past three weeks," he paused for a second, "So what did you have in mind?"

"Nothing in particular, I just had the thought that we should be more prepared than what we are. I mean, we haven't exactly had luck on _our_ side these past few days."

Dean nodded, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

The brothers discussed ways they could avoid trouble should they run into it and in the end came up with a few safety measures, should they find trouble with Lenore. Dean became sleepy again and reclined his seat once more, drifting off into darkness.

From that moment Sam drove in silence, along the winding roads surrounding the railways until coming came to a stop at the eastern point of the tracks. A large stone church joined the railways coming from both directions, and judging by the undernourished plantation, rusted windows and eerie silence, the church has been out of use for decades.

"Dean," Sam nudged him, "We're here."

He grunted and opened his eyes. Sam opened his door and walked on ahead.

Lenore was waiting for them on the front steps leading up to the entrance, and as he approached her, Sam scanned her with his eyes for some trace of betrayal, for something he couldn't trust, but for now he assumed that they could in fact, trust her.

"Sam," she nodded, and gestured towards Dean, "is he sleeping in there?"

Sam turned back towards the Impala, "Dean?"

"Yeah?" A voice yelled from somewhere inside, it was too dark and dewy to see inside.

"What the heck are you doing?"

"I lost the other half of my cheeseburger! 'M just trying to find it!"

Sam sighed, and then walked beside Lenore as she led him up to the church. One thing struck him as strange, "Hey," he said, "This is hallowed ground, you shouldn't be able to stand here, should you?"

She laughed, "Hallowed ground repels evil, yes. But I'm not evil," she shook her head, "Nor are we a powerful enough species to be able to cross the border of hallowed ground, even if we _were_."

"So that's why you asked us here?" Sam questioned, surprised, "to prove that you're _not_ on the other side?"

"Well, not exactly, but I guess it does help a lot, because hopefully there wont be a long time-consuming debate on whether I'm actually on your side or not."

"I wouldn't say that," Dean walked up to them, finishing the last bites of what looked to be his lost burger, "I still don't trust you."

"But, Dean-" Sam began.

"-Yeah, I get it," He interrupted, "Hallowed ground."

"Dean, you and I both know that only the most powerful demons have the ability to cross something as sacred as this."

"Then what about Meg?"

"What about her?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"She wasn't very highly ranked within demons now, was she?"

"Dean," Sam rolled his eyes, "She was Azazel's daughter, remember?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, its pretty obvious where she got the ability from."

Dean stopped there, but as they continued to pace the church he eyes Lenore suspiciously, and held a stance that made Sam sure that he was expecting some kind of surprise attack.

Lenore beckoned them to follow her, and the three approached a large altar set at the front of the church, and on top of it was placed a small box.

"Is that-?" Sam began before Lenore cut him off.

"Yes, Sam. You saw this in your vision, didn't you? Lilith was giving it to me," she nodded, "I was told to keep them as far away from you as I could, – or rather, as _close_ to you as I could without raising suspicion - but I didn't know what they meant, which is why I never cared to reveal them to you before now."

"And why now?" Sam asked, "Besides our doubtfulness of your loyalty, what do you have to prove?"

"I have nothing to prove," she proclaimed, "But I decided that this time would be as good as any. Because – like it or not boys – we're at war, and I don't know the whole story behind these artefacts, but I _do _know that with them you should do well."

Dean still wasn't satisfied, "Why did Lilith trust you so much to give you two of the most powerful weapons in the world? That must've taken a hell of a lot of sucking up."

She shrugged, "Honestly, I have no idea. And no, I haven't been playing her loyal servant for a long time, so it was very much a shock when she handed them to me freely."

"But you didn't know what they were?"

"I knew a little," she confessed, "And I'd heard some from Lilith too. I know _all _about these knives," she pulled the box lid open and lifted the crusaders weapon out, "I've heard legends about weapons like this for centuries, but it's one of those things you just pass off as make-believe. I believed, - like so many others – that the only weapon capable of achieving what this weapon can achieve is the Colt."

"But this knife can do so much more," Sam replied, "Compared to the Colt, this is highly superior."

She placed the knife down on the altar, and reached into the box again to retrieve the remaining contents.

The Manuscripts of Vanatuhi gleamed in the moonlight magnified by the high windows. "I know little of what these do, but what I _have _heard has shocked me greatly, and I fear for being watched, so we shall not discuss it here."

Sam and Dean nodded, and Dean stepped forward, reaching out for the knife, "May I?"

Lenore nodded slowly, and Dean picked it up, twirling it about in his fingers and observing the odd carvings on its hilt, clearly checking its authenticity. "And you're willing to give us these?"

"Yes," She replied, "But in return I ask you for a single favour."

Sam and Dean looked up.

"This war is spreading widely by the second, so take heed of what I tell you. Because, whether you like it or not you will have to face Lucifer and I have some information to be passed on to you, regarding the Crusaders weapons."

Sam and Dean said nothing, and so she continued. "It's a well-known legend among demons and creatures alike. When the Crusaders first formed, there was no creature that could stand in their way without being wiped off the face of the Earth, not even Lucifer.

"But the fact that they wielded these powerful weapons did not make them what they were. They were born to do it, _destined, _as one could say. The three of them retired after the defeat of Lucifer, and it was then that hunters rapidly became more common."

Dean stopped her, "You you're meaning to tell us that we have to be _born_ for the job in order to become a Crusader?"

"Exactly."

"Then why does Lucifer fear us so if we pose no threat," Sam became curious, "Unless of course you're telling us that we've been passed their _genes_ or something, and therefore making us eligible to take their place."

"That's exactly what I'm telling you. Crusaders blood runs in your veins, and if you look back at your ancestry you will find that most of your family have been exceptional hunters, and their achievements have not gone unnoticed I assure you."

"But then that doesn't fit!" Sam exclaimed, "If that were true, then only one of us could possibly take our ancestors place as a crusader, because there are three different families linked back to the original Crusaders.

"You see, that's where I've been stuck for a while. From the beginning I've known that the two of you would be at the very end, where either good or evil would triumph over the other, an ultimate battle for freedom. It hasn't just been obvious, its been – metaphorically – _written_.

Dean gave her a confused look, and Lenore continued, "The two of you are direct descendants of Ollathair, and it would seem that only one of you would become the next Crusader – in which case it would have been Dean, being the eldest – if it weren't for some strange circumstances.

"Up until recently I've had no idea who the other descendants were, but recently I tracked them down, and found one."

"Where?" Sam questioned curiously.

She sighed, "Brookland Park Cemetery," there was a short silence, and then: "His name was Gordon Walker."

"_What!"_ Dean exclaimed, "_Gordon?"_

"Yes, and I must say that I, personally, am glad that he's been taken out. Gordon was reckless and greedy, and cares not for the fate of our planet, or what would happen should Lucifer cast his shadow upon the land once more. For those of my kind who have lived here for as long as I have, we know what it's like. Trust me boys, it is – quite literally – hell on Earth."

"Then who's the last Crusader?"

"The final brother – Palladium – did not conceive a child, and therefore his bloodline ended there. This is the most difficult dilemma of them all."

Dean was getting impatient, "Who's the third?" he demanded of her.

Lenore hesitated for a second, then breathed in deeply and continued. "Since Gordon Walker died, the place of the Crusader should have passed to the next in line of his family."

"Matthew?" Dean questioned, and Lenore nodded. "But he can't, he's dead!"

"Exactly, and since there are no living members of the second Crusaders ancestry anymore, I thought there would be no one to fill the gap we're desperately looking for."

"So what does that mean?" Dean replied, shocked, "That we _can't_ defeat Lucifer with the weapons? Without three of us, they're completely useless against him!"

"It was true that up until recently, there was nobody to fill the third Crusaders role," Lenore answered, "But there is still one other in whose veins runs the blood of Ollathair."

Sam sat in deep thought at this statement, and then – suddenly realising - raised his head slowly, "You can't mean… _him?_"

Lenore nodded.

"But that… _thing_ is not our father!" Sam exclaimed, "He may inhabit the same body, but he certainly holds no place in our family line!"

Dean finally caught on, and spoke the shocking revelation, "Iahamu is the third Crusader?"

Lenore spoke up again, "I know, boys, I know. You're right, that thing that was brought back is not your father. But, just like you said, he inhabits your fathers body, and therefore the bloodline attached to it."

Sam shook his head stubbornly, "No, this isn't going to work."

"Well," Lenore replied, "Without him you boys have no hope. But I'm sure you'll think of something, you always do."

"But this is impossible!" Dean exclaimed, "He's a _demon!_"

"As I understand it, you've befriended demons before."

Sam scowled, "We befriended _one_ demon, and that turned out to be a large mistake. Though she wasn't like all the others, and Iahamu is. He's cunning, vicious and has strength enough to withstand practically any attack we place on him."

Lenore opened her mouth to retaliate, when without warning, a loud howl echoed through the night, and she jerked her head upwards.

"Sorry boys," she whispered, "Our time is up, I must be going now, but I wish you well on your mission, for all of our sakes."

"Aren't you going to help us fight Lucifer?"

She sighed, stopping in the doorway; "This is out of my hands now. It's do or die for you both, Lucifer's evil is spread widely, and it's going to take everything you have and more to take him down."

"Thanks," Dean whispered, and Lenore smiled at him.

"We may have some hope after all," she grinned, "I wish you both the best of luck, God knows you may be needing it before the end."

With these words, she disappeared into the night. Sam and Dean wasted no time, quickly following through the door and wandering back to the Impala.

"Do you think we can trust her?"

********

They sat in the unmoving Impala, their thoughts dwelling on everything that Lenore had told them. "She seems trustworthy, I mean, we left without a scratch did we not? Plus all this information and two of the most valuable objects on the face of the Earth," Sam replied, "Doesn't strike me as much of a criminal, you know?"

"I guess you're right, but that doesn't mean we can't be weary." Dean started the engine, and pulled out onto the dirt road once more as the engine grumbled beneath them.

They had only gotten a few miles up the road when Dean pulled out his mobile and started flicking through his saved numbers.

"What are you looking for?" Sam asked in curiosity, leaning over to look.

Dean clicked the 'call' button and held the phone to his ear. "It's Bobby's phone I'm contacting, we've got to make sure that he's okay before going after Lucifer."

"Why didn't we just ask Lenore?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know!" he answered, "There was too much to take in and it didn't come to mind at the time."

"Is it working?"

"Yeah, but he's not picking up."

Dean waited another ten seconds and then hung up, tossing the phone down and scowling. It only took another few moments before it's screen lit up and the ring-tone rang throughout the car.

Dean thrust his hand out and instantly grabbed it.

"Bobby?"

"_Dean, you called?"_

"Yeah, where are you?"

"_I'm in New Hampshire, at your old mate Cotalus' home, and I'm afraid there's some bad news._

"Why," Dean pulled over to the side of the road so that he could listen properly, "What happened?"

"_Lucifer must have found out that he'd been doing dealings with you, because there's not much of a home left now."_

"Lucifer?"

"_Looks like it. The police have been and gone again. They're completely baffled, and they found no trace of a body."_

"Bobby, this is getting way out of hand and we need to put and end to it. We need to see you right away… where do you want to meet?"

"_Just stay where you are and I'll be back tomorrow morning, I'm going to do a little looking around before I leave."_

"How are you going to know where to find us?"

"_Mobile GPS really is a wonderful thing."_

"Okay Bobby, take care of yourself."

"_Yeah, you too."_

Dean hung up the phone and put it back down on top of the dashboard before pulling a copy of the Wyoming yellow pages from the back seat where it had been sitting for the past week and began to search for the nearest hotel.

* * *

It was barely 8am when they heard a loud rapping on their hotel door.

Dean rolled over in his bed, grunting, "Who is it?"

"George Clooney," came a raspy voice, "Who do you think, boy?"

Dean pulled himself out of bed and wandered towards the door, pulling it open to reveal a worn and weathered Bobby. "Sorry Bobby, but we haven't slept too well in the past few weeks, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it. So let's get down to business, yeah?"

"Hey, hold your horses!" Dean exclaimed, walking blindly around the room, "I can't even remember where my bed it and you're gonna ask me questions about saving the world?"

He walked over to Sam and kicked the side of his bed, "Get up grumpy, we've got some thinking to do."

"Yes, Doc."

Five minutes later Sam, Dean and Bobby were sat at the rounded table set in the far corner of the room, Bobby with his eyes wide and staring and the brothers with their heads rolling to one side as they struggled to keep awake.

"So what was it you found boys?"

"Tell us your story first," Dean demanded sleepily.

Bobby shrugged, "There's not much to tell, really. The Police have no idea what the hell could've done it. It was as if an explosion had gone off, but all they've got to go on is that the house was burned to the ground in a phenomenally short time period. There's almost nothing left, and Cotalus was nowhere to be found."

"He was a good man," Dean replied, "I hope he survived."

"Somehow I doubt it," Bobby said solemnly.

"So are you sure it's him?" Sam asked.

"Definitely, it seems that Lucifer has been hungry for some time now, and he's been bent on finding the two of _you_. It has become a kind of cliché among demons now. They all seem to want your blood on their hands – or claws – and you're going to have to watch your back this time. This isn't just any demon; he's the freakin' King, the _ruler_ of hell itself. You're up against Satan, and you're going to have to get galactically lucky in order to defeat him."

"Don't worry, we know what we have to do."

Bobby snorted, "Without the third crusaders weapon, you have no hope."

Dean laughed, "Well, I guess it's a good thing that we found it then, isn't it?

Bobby looked shocked, "You… found it?"

"Yep."

"Well, seeing as you're both alive, I'm assuming that Lilith was left for dead? So what… you just took it for yourselves after that? I would've thought that it'd be more difficult than that."

"Well, it was," Sam began, "Lilith didn't actually have the weapon when we confronted her.

He went on to tell him the story of how they'd found her in the caves, about Iahamu's long speech, the nightmare of Lenore and Lilith (Bobby gasped when he heard this) and then about meeting Lenore at the church and her explanations.

"So you just _let_ her go?" Bobby asked, a look of disapproval on his face.

"What else were we meant to do?" Dean asked.

"Bring her back with you of course! You don't even know if she can be trusted."

"Bobby," Sam groaned, "If Lenore had intended to kill us, it would have been _so_ easy, we weren't armed at all except for a few knives, and she also gave us the two items that the enemy has tried to keep us away from for so long. I, for one, am sure that she can be trusted."

Bobby waves his hand away at this, "Never mind about all that now. What are we going to do?"

"It's simple," Dean shrugged, "Kill Lucifer, permanently close the gates of hell and settle into an early retirement on the beaches of Hawaii."

Bobby laughed, "You guys have too high an opinion of yourselves. You're not invincible."

"Well, truthfully we have no idea what to do about this Iahamu problem," Sam started, "He's not exactly on _our_ side, is he?"

"Yes, I see your problem, but it can't be _that _difficult, come on!"

"How the hell do you convince a demon to turn against his own master and join you to bring peace to everything he's fought so hard to destroy?" Sam asked, "I'm at a complete loss at how to handle this situation."

"Well, we're going to have to _find _a way to stop him then, aren't we!" Bobby ended with enthusiasm, picking up his coat and heading for the door, "Lets go!"

Dean stood up and looked over at Sam with a curious smile, "Let's finish this, shall we?"


	22. Chapter Twenty One

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Note: **Nearing the finish line. Thanks for reading.

**Chapter 21**

He'd been waiting a long time.

The deep blackness of his eyes shone in the moonlight, reflecting a shadowy image of an elderly graveyard and a strong scent of rotten corpses and the bone-chilling wails of the wind that would send a horrific cold through the bloodstream of any regular person.

But he wasn't any regular person.

"_Iahamu."_

The deep voice echoed phenomenally throughout the clearing, but Iahamu stood his ground, staring into the deep blackness above, where not even the smallest light twinkled. Even the sky seemed to know that the day of reckoning had come, and its silence was eerie.

"Lucifer," Iahamu spoke into the darkness, and though he saw no physical figure, he knew that the presence to whom he spoke acknowledged his words, "We need to talk."

It was as if these words evoked a powerful understanding between the two demonic forces, and at last Lucifers physical presence came to rest in front of Iahamu. At last they looked upon each other, their mutual acquaintance recognisable within their eyes.

"I see you've brought along a little friend."

"_Yes,"_ Lucifer replied, "_It doesn't serve me well to attempt to blend in among humans with my true form, so I improvised and – though this body demands high needs for feeding – it's working for me so far."_

Iahamu nodded, "You know what I'm here about," his voice was firm, "There is business that needs attending to."

Lucifer kept to the shadows behind large gravestones and monumental structures, and all that could clearly be made out of his location where the flaming gems that were his eyes.

"Our plan is going perfectly," Iahamu whispered, "We've come to the end. Are we sure that it's full-proof?"

"_There is nothing to fear," _Lucifer replied sourly, _"The events will unfold themselves as they wish, and the final outcome is yet to be foreseen."_

"How do we know the brothers will come?"

"_Oh, trust me,"_ Lucifer grinned, pearly whites gleaming through the darkness, "_They will come."_

"What makes you so sure?"

Lucifer turned to him, _"If I weren't, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I've spent hours spending quality time with those whom the boys trust most. If the discovery of their fallen friends bodies doesn't draw them here, then we'll take this war to them."_

"Is there a possibility that we could lose?"

The idea of defeat hung in the air for a few seconds, a tense moment of anxiety washed over Iahamu as Lucifer gave this a little thought.

"_The plan is full-proof." _Lucifer assured him, "_It won't be long now. The only doubts in my mind at this time are those three accursed weapons they possess."_

Iahamu blanched at the upbringing of an unwanted topic. _He doesn't know my secret. He doesn't realise that I hold the key to the Winchesters success. _"The boys are incapable of wielding the power of those weapons," he answered, hoping that Lucifer did not pick up on his deceit, "There are no longer three Crusaders, and the power cannot be tapped into without the combined strength of three."

Lucifer grunted, "_The light at the end of our tunnel is at last in sight. Tonight we will extract our revenge upon those who made me – who made us – suffer."_

"What must I do until then, your lordship?" Iahamu was careful with his flattery, for he knew that Lucifers rage could be unleashed at the smallest of misunderstandings.

"_Tonight you must bring to me the treasure you have held for so long. The one final piece to this puzzle that will seal the dominance I will unleash, the weapon with which I will close the gates of hell once and for all, therefore accomplishing an invincibility for me."_

"Why have you not done this yourself already," Iahamu asked curiously, "Why wait until the Winchester's are dead?"

"_Because I want them to rot in the place I've been bound to for centuries. I want them to suffer the pain I once suffered, and whilst the gates are open, I will unleash my ultimate army, and then…"_

"Then what?" Iahamu delved cautiously, awaiting his master's answer.

"_Then comes the apocalypse."_

_

* * *

_

Dawn invaded the deep black sky that was once night, and Dean found himself being roused at the earliest possible moment, looking upon his brother's face as it angled over him. "What do you want?" He grunted, before lifting his head to check on the time. He groaned and then threw his face back down upon the pillow, "And _why _so early?"

Sam fought to find the right words, but he was sure that what he had seen in his dream was real, and if it was… he shuddered at the thought.

"We seem to be further behind than we'd first thought," Sam revealed, and Dean rolled over to face him in the morning light.

"How so?"

"I had another dream."

Dean sat bolt upright, "A nightmare?" He fumbled with his words for a moment, and then blurted "Who?"

Sam sighed, "Lucifer and Iahamu."

All of a sudden Dean had forgotten how tired he was and picked himself up off the bed, strolling over to the refrigerator and emptying half a bottle of milk down his throat. He wiped his mouth and turned to Sam again, "What did they say?"

"Well, not much that I could clearly decipher," Sam admitted, "But they seem to have something in store for the two of us, well, at least that's what they said."

"How could they know that we plan to go after them?" Dean questioned curiously, "This was supposed to be a surprise attack on our part, and you're telling me they're _expecting_ us?"

"Yeah, but I'm still unsure as to whether what I saw was true or not…"

Dean opened a few cupboard doors, searching for something he could eat, with no avail. "What do you mean whether they're true or not?" Dean looked shocked at the possibility, "Since _when_ are your dreams ever wrong!"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know, but there was something Lucifer said, about hurting those we've trusted most, I've heard nothing about it as such, so I was beginning to wonder."

Dean pondered this thought for a moment, "I'll call Bobby, he'll know."

Sam just realised that Bobby wasn't with them, "When'd he sneak off?"

Dean shrugged, "Sometime in the night, he told me that there were some things he had to take care of before we marched upon the Devils Gates, and left."

Sam spent no time mulling over this, for his stomach ached with hunger. "Is there anything at all to eat?"

Dean looked at him curiously, "If there _was,_ do you really think I'd be sitting here _not_ eating it?"

Sam sighed, "Yeah, I get your point. Maybe one of us should go down to the stores and pick up something."

Dean laughed at him, "Yeah, and get ambushed the second we step foot out of this building."

"You're being to paranoid lately," Sam groaned, "We're _not_ being watched!"

"And how would you know this?"

"I'd feel their presence if we were."

Dean didn't bother to question this, for he knew the extent of Sam's abilities and that the words he spoke, spoke truth.

"Fine," Dean gave in, "_I'll_ go get something to eat. _You_ stay right here."

"Fine with me," Sam smiled, smugly jumping back onto his bed and stretching his muscles, "I'll be waiting for you when you get back, okay?"

Dean exited the room with a jealous look etched upon his face at the image of Sam sleeping. Sleep hadn't exactly befriended them in the past few weeks.

Sam was settling down into a free hour of sleep when – to his extreme distaste – his phone began to ring, echoing through his ears.

Groaning, he pulled himself out from under the covers and went to retrieve it.

"Hello," he answered sleepily.

"_Sam, it's Bobby."_

"What's new?"

"_I've got some good news, and some terribly bad news."_

"I'll take the good news, for now."

"_Well, I've managed to track down hunters from all over America. It seems that word has travelled fast about the approaching war, and many are keen to take part in defending their honour in battle."_

"Battle?" Sam asked, confused.

"_Sam, if by some chance we manage to defeat Lucifer, there's still the task of opening the gates of hell. Remember what happened the last two times this happened? Demons will be flying everywhere, and we've got to make sure they don't escape."_

"But there are hundreds of demons!" Sam exclaimed, "There can't be enough hunters to hold them off."

"_Clearly you've never been involved as much as I have in this business. In the past few hours alone I've rounded up over seventy hunters, and they're contacting others, who are sure to contact more. I'm expecting a number large enough to combat any and every demon that comes through those gates, even if by doing that means holding back hell itself."_

"We're going to need some steel replacements for those railways," Sam reminded him, "We've got to repair those tracks so that the demons can't escape."

"_Already got 'em."_

"Good," Sam whispered, "So, the bad news?"

He heard Bobby sigh deeply, "_Like I said, I've been in contact with over seventy hunters, and stories have aroused overnight. Lucifer has struck again."_

Sam gasped, the words confirming everything he heard in his dream, "How many?" he asked, tensing his stomach and baring his teeth in anxiety.

"_Fifty so far I've heard of. But there may be more."_

The pits of Sam's stomach dropped. _Fifty hunters._ Fifty good people lost their lives because of him.

_No,_ Sam shook his head. _Don't think that, it's not your fault,_ he assured himself, _it was Lucifer._

Just the thought of what they went through - whether unknowingly being struck by Lucifer or not - sent a cold chill down the length of Sam's body, causing his knees to give way and he collapsed to the floor.

"_Sam," _Bobby called, "_You there?"_

:"Yeah," he replied weakly, pulling himself to his feet with the support of a nearby windowsill that looked out over the streets.

Down on the pavement below, in the corner of his eye Sam saw something.

_Someone._

By the time his brain had processed what it is that he'd seen, it was too late, and when he looked back he saw nothing.

"Bobby, I think I just…" His voice drowned upon itself as he attempted to explain.

"_What is it?"_

"I could've sworn that I'd just seen Bella!" Sam exclaimed.

"_Bella? What the heck would she be doing there?"_

"I don't know, I'm not even one hundred percent sure that I saw her, but if it wasn't _her_, then _someone_ was looking up at me anyway."

"_Okay, well keep an eye out and tell me if you see anything else suspicious. I've got to get back to work."_

"Okay, I'll talk to you later."

"_Sure thing. I'll be back around noon."_

Sam hung up the phone and collapsed on the couch. His mind ached from too little sleep, and yet he forced himself to stay awake.

A loud rapping on the front door made Sam jump upright very quickly in his seat.

"Dean?" he called out, hopeful.

"_No, not Dean,"_ A familiar female voice replied.

Sam rushed to the door and opened it, allowing Lenore entry to the apartment. He was in total shock to see her so soon after their talk two nights ago.

"I'm here to help," she proclaimed, wasting no time with greetings.

"I thought you said that this was out of your hands?" Sam grunted, "You told us that you wanted no part in this."

She was unfazed by his questions, "I heard what happened to those friends of yours," she replied, "I am truly sorry."

"No hunter deserves such a death."

"I'm here to offer you my – and my fellow vampires – allegiance in this war, whatever we can do to help, as I am aware that there may be a limited number of hunters available to withstand the full force of Hell."

"How many of you are there?"

She thought for a second, "Close to a hundred, maybe more depending on what time period you expect them in."

"We're leaving tonight."

"No problem."

Though he didn't show it, Sam was extremely relieved to know that Lenore was backing them too. When the Devils Gates opened once more, he knew that they would need every ounce of manpower that they could muster.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Lenore waved him off, "You've done more than enough for us already. As I've told you before, if it weren't for you, we'd be extinct already. Instead we've flourished into an equal species sharing the Earth with you humans in a way that affects you very little."

Sam smiled at the praise, "Before we'd faced you, we just thought of every creature we came across as monsters. We'd never given it a second thought that maybe some of them didn't deserve to die, until we met you. As you know fully well, we struggled to accept the possibility that you weren't evil, and from that experience we've taken much more care when we confront the supernatural."

She nodded, "I'm glad. Truly, I am."

In the few seconds' silence that issued following this sentence, the floorboards outside the door creaked and another familiar voice yelled out to them, "Sammy, it's me! Let me in, would ya?"

Sam pulled the door open and Dean strolled in, throwing onto the bench armfuls of-

"Pie?" Sam shook his head incredulously, "Is that _all_?"

"What?" Dean hadn't noticed Lenore yet, "Do you not like pie?"

Sam groaned, "We've eaten nothing _but_ pie for two freaking weeks!"

"Come on!" Dean answered, "We had, err… umm…. Hmm."

Sam shook his head and beckoned him over to where Lenore was sitting. Dean registered her presence for a moment and spoke nothing of it. It seems he wasn't surprised that she was there.

He pulled a pie from its plastic pocket and threw it into the oven before sitting down with Sam and Lenore, "So, let's get down to business, yeah?"

Sam nodded, "So how are we going to do this?"

"Well," Dean began, "We've got to make sure that both Iahamu _and_ Lucifer are in that graveyard when we seal it, otherwise our entire plan goes down the drain."

"What's the plan?" Lenore asked curiously.

"Not get killed," Dean shrugged, standing up to check on his pie.

"Well, I happen to know that both Lucifer and Iahamu will be in that graveyard tonight, so I guess we'll take 'em on then, yeah?"

Lenore looked at him, "Another vision?"

Sam nodded, and Dean walked back towards them, a glum expression on his face at the absence of cooked pie, "What exactly did they _say_?" He questioned, pacing the room and occasionally checking on his food.

"The only thing I'm very unsure of is what this weapon is they spoke of."

"Weapon?"

"I don't know. It was something that Lucifer had asked Iahamu to keep away from him, but now he wants it, tonight. He says with them he will be able to rid himself of us and become invincible."

Dean stopped, "Invincible?"

"That's what he said."

"This is just getting more confusing by the second."

"We'll just take it as it comes, one hurdle at a time," Sam enthused.

Dean pulled a steaming pie from the oven, smiling, then turned to Sam, "Have you spoken to Bobby yet?"

"Yeah, actually, I have."

"When's he getting back?"

"Sometime around mid-day."

Dean groaned, then walked to his bed and collapsed upon it, "Wake me up when he gets here."

********

Bobby didn't show up until 2pm, and by that time Sam had become extremely worried. Lenore had left an hour beforehand and Sam had been sitting at the table twiddling his thumbs and staring absent-mindedly at the door.

"Where were you?"

"I met Ellen and Jo along the way. They're keen on helping."

Dean was half-asleep when he heard this, but he roused himself and sat upright on his bed. "No." he answered flatly.

"Why?" Sam looked curious, "Why shouldn't they get the chance to help, when everyone else is?"

"Because they're not as experienced as the others, that's why."

"Dean, you shouldn't underestimate them, just because they're girls."

He laughed, "Dude, if you think after Bella, I _still_ underestimate girls, you've got it all wrong."

"Then why?"

Dean sighed, "They're almost like family, you know? They've care for us, helped us out in difficult spots and we know that they're trustworthy. They've taken us in many times when we needed shelter or food, and not to mention they were close friends with Dad. I just don't want to see them get hurt."

"Dean, you should let them do what they think is best. If they want to fight, then let them fight! I know that _I _sure as hell wouldn't want to be left behind as something this big commenced, would you?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "I guess you're right."

Bobby clasped his hands together, "Okay then! Now, how are we going to do this?"

The night was young, and the wind whistled through the leaves surrounding them as they wait on the southeastern side of the railway tracks, sitting among the plantation silently and waiting anxiously._._

Bobby had called to them a few close friends of his, who helped him apply the first steel replacement for the railway lines, and the brothers watched as they lined up the second.

"We've got to wait until they arrive," Sam whispered, "It shouldn't be long now."

Bobby nodded, and they sat still, unsure of what to expect. They had hidden their cars well, so unless they were spotted in their hiding place, their plan was set to go ahead as scheduled.

Dean was wide-awake and alert, a duffel bag strung over his shoulder. The bag was not large enough to contain the sword of Amaethon, and so its blade gleamed in the moonlight above, held in his hand. For the first time in centuries it's power was about to be unleashed once more, and Dean could feel it's energy force beneath his fingers.

Sam sat bolt upright as a faint wail could be heard in the distance. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he felt the dark presence envelop his senses.

With a curt nod, the four men with Bobby hammered down the final piece to the railways, and a burning electrical current erupted from the tracks completion and ran along its edge for as far as their eyes could see.

The light blinded them, and they knew that the deed was done. Dean nodded to Bobby who pulled out his cell phone and dialled a single number, whispering in a deadly quiet voice. "We're ready."

The final battle was about to commence.

* * *

**The final few chapters will be posted within the next day or so. **

**Still to come:**

Chapter 22 - Finale Part 1

Chapter 23 - Finale Part 2

Epilogue

**"Oh yes, there will be blood."**


	23. Chapter Twenty Two, Finale Part One

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Note - **Part one of two - enjoy. When this was first posted, I made sure that it was better quality than the rest. Not as much so as the rewrites, but hopefully enough to satisfy you with a good ending if I don't manage to get the rewrite done.

**Chapter 22 – Finale, Part 1**

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**

The moonlight shone upon Sam and Dean brighter than they could ever remember, casting a feint shadow upon the Earth's surface. A slight breeze washed over them and the hairs on their arms stood on end, but they cared not for the cold, adrenaline pumping through their veins and an anxiety creeping into their minds as they neared their final destination.

They moved lightly and treading cautiously, but no matter how hard they tried the littered leaves and twigs snapped and creased beneath their feet, causing little noise but yet still enough to give away their location, which they knew could prove fatal to them.

Sam and Dean had continued on alone, moving on foot through the thick bushland surrounding the graveyard. Bobby, Lenore and their few anonymous companions had remained behind on the border, awaiting the largest army of hunters to ever converge in a single place ready to take on the forces of Hell itself.

"They'll be okay," Dean had assured him, "They're all trained, and know what they're dealing with."

Unexpectedly, Sam doubled over clutching his temple. A white-hot pain had seared through his mind. It felt as if something was pushing the boundaries of his brain, attempting to divulge right through it and Sam was somehow resisting its plunge, causing himself immense pain in the process.

"What is it?" Dean bent over to him with a worried expression on his face, "A vision?"

Sam shook his head, and then sighed as the pain subsided, "I don't know, but whatever it was, it wasn't good."

Dean was slightly afraid, but didn't show it. He helped Sam to his feet before continuing onwards, "I'm starting to think we should have been more prepared."

Sam nodded, "I hope we're ready for this."

Dean pulled the sword of Amaethon out in front of him and swung it about, "I kinda feel like those hero's of the medieval times, you know? Walking into battle with a sword and striking down my enemy. You know, like the whole Lord of the Rings deal?"

Sam snorted, "Lord of the Rings? You _do_ know that it's a make-believe story, right?"

"Yeah…" Dean replied with an air of uncertainty, "I know."

Sam shook his head and looked through the trees before stopping in his tracks and holding out his arm, signalling Dean to stop.

At long last, the clearing had come into view through the thickets of trees and they took a deep breath. Sam drew the knife of Ollathair from his back pocket – Dean kept his own stored, approaching with the sword instead – and they moved into the clearing.

It was eerily silent, and they saw no one as they stepped out from the shadows. The absence of Lucifer and Iahamu disturbed them, and they moved forward cautiously, their eyes flickering behind tombstones and large trees as they passed.

_They're here somewhere_, Sam thought to himself, _I can sense them._

"You certainly took your time."

Sam and Dean spun on the spot, turning to face Iahamu, who grinned at them and approached with an air of confidence about him that made them nervous.

They stared at each other for a moment, and Iahamu just kept on coming. Sam became nervous at this and looked over his shoulder as if expecting an ambush of some kind.

"That's it, come just a little closer," Dean urged, pulling the sword into a striking position, "I'll rip you to pieces."

Iahamu kept on coming, and smirked, "I don't think so, Dean."

"And why's that?"

"Because you didn't put much thought into this plan of yours now, did you Dean?"

He said nothing, but stared his enemy in the eyes and prepared to strike. Iahamu continued, "You know how vulnerable Sam's mind is at the current time. It was foolish of you to bring him along, considering what he could be made to do."

"Lilith is dead," Dean growled, "He can't be controlled anymore."

"Is that so?" Iahamu looked amused at his insolence. "Haven't you wondered why his abilities stopped when Azazel was killed, and suddenly began once more when Astaroth appeared?"

Dean said nothing, and so he continued, "It would have served you well to know the origin behind Sam's power. If you'd taken just a few minutes to think, you would realise that it all revolves around Lucifer and his kin.

"It began when Azazel was around, and ended with his defeat – I might add that this only infuriates Lucifer more, knowing what you've done to both his son and daughter – and with Astaroth it was the same deal.

"But they've become more common recently, have they not Sam? When Lucifer was brought back, the power increased immensely, and Lucifer even attempted to use this control to permanently place Sam under his grasp. But unfortunately, your suicidal schemes proved ill for him."

"You're saying that the _whole_ mystery of Sam's strange abilities has revolved around Lucifer this entire time?"

Iahamu smirked, "That is true. So I _know_ that you won't dare to attack me, knowing the kind of influence that Lucifer has over your baby brother."

Dean glared at him, "Then where is he? Where is this almighty _Satan _you speak of?"

Iahamu looked at him warningly, "Careful not to insult him, foolish boy. He will show himself in due course."

Sam scowled at him, "We'll be ready," he whispered, clenching the Manuscripts of Vanatuhi in his hands even tighter.

Iahamu glanced down at the artefacts in his hand, and smiled. "I thought you boys would have been smarter than that."

"How so?"

He laughed, "Those Manuscripts you hold in your hands? I'm sorry to tell you that you've been gravely mistaken. Whatever it was that Astaroth gave that Vampire to protect was not the Manuscripts, for – without her knowledge – they were switched at the last moment. It's just a small mistake like that is going to cost you greatly."

Sam looked over to Dean, and then down to the manuscripts in his hand. They looked real, but he knew that Iahamu spoke the truth: They no longer had the heaviness of great power they once owned.

Iahamu smirked, "You know it's true, don't you. Like I said, it was foolish of you to come so unprepared." He paused for a second, "You came here with the false impression that you held the upper hand. I gave you information enough – true though it was – that blinded you to everything else.

"With the power that you believed you had, you were too confident to pay enough attention to what was right under your nose. A complete _copy_ of Vanatuhi's Manuscripts."

"Where are the real ones, huh?" Dean growled, and Iahamu smiled.

"Lucifer," he called behind him, "It is time."

"_Do you have them," _replied a deep, booming voice, "_Did you bring me the Manuscripts of Vanatuhi?"_

Dean looked shocked, "_You_ have them? And you're giving them to…" he shook his head, cursing himself, "Damn it!"

"Yes," Iahamu nodded, "I told you everything I knew about the manuscripts, and every word of it was true. When Lucifer holds these in his hands, a power will be unleashed upon the world that not even you _Winchesters _can stop."

The sky above them turned a blood red, and a flash of lightning exploded around them, blinding them all as they covered their eyes with their arms. A shadow erupted from the clouds, and with a deafening blast Lucifer appeared on the ground before them.

Dean and Sam stood their ground, knowing that they stood no chance against Lucifer without the full power of three Crusaders. They needed Iahamu, and now had no idea how they were going to do it. This definitely hadn't gone the way they had planned.

Iahamu knelt down on the ground in front of Lucifer, who stood tall and menacing above him, his inhabited body lean and muscular, spreading a dominant force through the air around him. Iahamu held up the Manuscripts and Lucifer reached out his arms, taking them into his grasp.

The fake Scripts, which Sam held in his hands, dropped to the ground and Dean – in his anger - struck them with the sword of Amaethon, an electrical current spreading through the page, and after a brief flash of light it became a small pile of ashes.

A distinct power radiated from Lucifer as he held the Manuscripts in the air, and his voice echoed throughout the clearing as he began to chant out aloud.

"_Agaetí Blödhren atra esterní ono thelduin mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr Un du evárínya ono varda"_

Sam screamed aloud and fell to his knees, gripping his forehead in immense pain. Excruciating agony befell him as Lucifer kept on chanting. Dean didn't get a chance to register what had just happened, for he was violently thrown backwards and pinned to a small tombstone, incapable of moving as he watched his own brother undergo terrible agony.

"_Atra gulíä un ilian tauthr ono un atra ono waíse skölir fra rauthr nosu vardo fra eld hórnya gala ó wydra brunhvitr abr beründal vadre-fódhr burthro sem oro un lam iet ignasia hlaupa sé mor'ranr ono finna"_

Sam twitched and jerked on the ground, bellowing at the top of his lungs. The cry echoed through the sky and symbolised the wrath Lucifer had brought to the earth. Tears streamed down Sam's face as he screamed for it to stop, and then all of a sudden, it did.

"_Vel eïnradhin!"_

Lucifer finished chanting and Sam stopped jerking about on the ground. He shuddered violently and after a few seconds slowly pulled himself to his feet, a disturbing grimace on his face.

Sam's eyes flamed red, a burning hatred etched into his face, and Dean realised what had just happened. _Lucifer was now in control of Sam._

"NO!" He protested, "What've you done to him!"

Lucifer smirked, "_Don't worry, Dean. I'll take good care of your brother."_

Dean could only watch as Lucifer led Sam over to the Devils Gates, and whispered something into his ear. Sam nodded and rummaged through the pack slung on his shoulders.

Dean suddenly thought of something, _Where's the Crusaders knife?_

And he saw it. Gleaming in the moonlight on the deadened grass less than five metres from him. It seems that Sam had dropped it as he writhed upon the ground. He just hoped that Lucifer didn't realise its absence. Their only leverages were those three knives, and they couldn't lose that, not yet.

"_It is time," _Lucifer repeated Iahamu's earlier statement, "_Now, Sam, it is time to re-open the Devils Gates, and unleash my true power upon the world once more."_

Obeying, Sam pulled the Colt out and without a second of hesitation, without the slightest chance of being stopped, he inserted the barrel into the gates.

It took only seconds, and for the second time in Dean's life, he saw the Devils Gates become thrown open. Hoards of Demons swarmed through the exit, heading straight forward towards the southern end of the devils trap, the one vulnerable place in it's structure, protected only by the vast arm of hunters that await them.

Dean just hoped that it would be enough.

The swarm of hungry demons met the hunter's head on, and a raging battle began. The number of hunters strayed somewhere between two and three hundred, whereas the demons just kept on coming. With every passing moment, more and more demon's passed through the gates, and the hunters knew that they couldn't hold them off for too much longer.

_Where the heck are the Vampires,_ Bobby thought to himself as rock-salt weapons blasted and ancient chants filled the air around them, fending off the enemy.

Back in the graveyard, Lucifer smirked as the ground shook uncontrollably. The force was incredible, and Dean was shocked to see that neither Lucifer, Iahamu nor Sam were showing the slightest reaction to the earthquake.

Iahamu turned and whispered something to Lucifer, who nodded curtly. Iahamu walked towards Dean and held out his arm, an unseen force gripping Dean by the neck and lifting him into the air. He couldn't breathe, and it was in that moment that all hope faded from his mind.

Iahamu tossed him with a strength that could be matched by no human, onto the ground many metres away. A look of hatred was etched upon his face as he slammed a boot into Dean's ribcage, who fought the urge to scream in pain. He couldn't show weakness, and he _couldn't _give up.

Not yet.

With every kick Dean took, his body edged ever closer to the open doors of Hell, and Iahamu threw himself upon Dean, a ferocious hunger in his eyes. But he just stared Dean with immense hate, and moved within half a metre of Hell's deathly plunge.

Dean struggled for breath as he felt the heat upon his hair. He forced himself to look at Iahamu, and he saw the face of his father staring back. But the loving father he once knew was gone, and this _thing, _this evil, twisted monster stood in its place. But maybe, just maybe, his father was still in there somewhere.

_Somewhere._

Dean summoned all the energy he could, before throwing a single word into the air in an attempt to catch Iahamu off-guard.

"Dad?"

Iahamu laughed at his pitiful words, "Haven't I already told you this, Dean? I'm not your father, and nor is any part of him still dwelling inside of me."

He stood up and watched Dean writhe helplessly on the ground, allowing him to swallow his last few breaths. Using them, Dean spoke again, "Come on, Dad! You're in there somewhere. You wouldn't kill me, I _know_ you wont!"

_He hoped._

"You never give up, do you?" Iahamu looked down at him in shame, "Your Dad will never come back, because his soul still belongs to Lucifer here. The _only _reason that you left Hell with everything intact, Dean, was because Sam used the Manuscripts of Vanatuhi to do it, which snatched your soul from Lucifer and brought _it _back too.

"Your father, on the other hand, came back as a Demon. _Me_. There is no way for anybody to leave hell as a demon and yet still be who they were when they went in."

Dean thought for a moment before retaliating, "What about Ruby?"

"Ah, _yes_," Iahamu grinned, "The famed _Ruby_. Ruby, though even she wouldn't remember, was once an Estonian Goddess, who – in fact – fought in the battle against Lucifer last time 'round. She underestimated the power of Lucifer, and was killed in battle. When Lucifer eventually fell, he personally made sure that the only valuable casualty from this fight would suffer the same fate as he.

"She spent the full length of time in hell, but she kept her sanity using the power of her mind. She was stronger than anyone who had ever been cast into the depths before, and she came out, not necessarily the same person, but not exactly evil. She'd strained her mind to its limits, attempting to keep herself a good person; for she knew that one day she would emerge from hell. She didn't come out exactly the way she'd planned, for she _did _have some evil inside of her, and she didn't recall anything from her experience. But all in all, she saved herself from the worst of it."

Dean took all of this in, but he had little time to mull over it, because Iahamu continued, "As I was saying, it is – in John's case at least – _impossible _for him to come out in any way resembling how he was when he entered."

"So, you _are _my father then?"

"Technically, yes," he replied sourly, "I was once your father, but he has been gone for a long time now, and I have replaced him. Be under no false hope that he can return, for it could not happen. His soul remains with Lucifer, and only the power of the Manuscripts of Vanatuhi could possibly reverse what has been done."

Dean became curious at these words, even in what was sure to be his last moments, he realised that there was some hope, all along. "But Sam _tried _to save Dad!" Dean exclaimed, "When he first tapped into the power of the Manuscripts, he tried, and it failed."

"At that time, I did not exist," Iahamu replied, "And _because _I didn't exist, there was no body for John to go back to, and so his soul remained in hell. It has only been since I came out that you have had the slightest chance of bringing his soul back. But don't even attempt it Dean, it would just waste valuable energy, and _you_ can't control the manuscripts."

"But Sam can." Sweat dripped down Dean's forehead, the heat of the pit burning his face.

"Somehow, I can't see that happening," he ginned, "Unless I'm quite mistaken, little Sammy is under the influence of Lucifer now, and there is nothing that can stand between Lucifer and his prey once he controls the Manuscripts of Vanatuhi.

"But enough talk now. I'm sorry to say that you, Dean, will never see the sunlight again, never know the smell of clean air. Once the Manuscripts of Vanatuhi are destroyed, the Devils Gates will close once more, never to open again, and you will be left to rot inside that dreaded hole for all eternity."

Without any further words, Iahamu lifted Dean up with his bare hands, the phenomenal strength of his arms bearing the weight of Dean's entire body. Dean hung limp in his hands, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop him.

The fiery pits of Hell burned beneath his feet, and the heat was overwhelming. It beckoned him, hungry for some fresh meat to torture, to watch in content, as Dean would suffer the worst possible pain, until the end of time itself.

Dean shocked himself as a prayer hit his lips in his last moments, but it came out in less than a whisper among streams of tears.

Iahamu waited for the final signal as he held Dean's life – quite literally - in the palm of his hands, and at last it came.

Lucifer nodded.

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**Read on!! ^_^**


	24. Chapter Twenty Three, Finale Part Two

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Chapter 23 – Finale Part 2****  


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The battle raged on, but the hunters knew that their energy levels were rapidly dropping, and they could only give Sam and Dean so much time before they fell to their knees, unable to resist the armies of Hell any longer.

Bobby had knelt down behind Ellen and Jo, who were covering him as he scratched ancient runes and symbols in the dust beneath their feet. It wasn't much, but hopefully it would be enough to hold the Demons off for just a few moments longer should the Hunters fail.

As far as they knew, there had been few casualties from their side, but the Demons just kept on coming, and hope was beginning to fail them all.

A large group of these Demons suddenly turned their eyes on Bobby, and Ellen noticed this only a moment before they struck.

She pounced forward, thrusting her arm out and slashing with silver weaponry at the approaching enemies.

But the Demons were quicker.

Ducking underneath her sharp blow, a dark-headed demon elbowed her in the stomach with intense force, and another swung their heel into Ellen's temple. She was knocked to the ground, all air expelling from her lungs as she collapsed in a heap on the ground, slipping into a heavenly unconsciousness

The Demon's must have realised that they'd created an opening, a weak spot in the wall of Hunters, because they began to swarm towards Bobby and Jo, who tiresomely stood their ground, ready for an attack.

It was Jo who drew first blood.

She pounced forward with speed unknown from her, side-stepping the first Demon's blow and slashing at another, before pulling out her single-handed rock-salt weapon out from its holster and blasting a third away. She then backed off and stood her ground, panting, but beckoning the demon's towards her menacingly.

It seems she doesn't take kindly to her family being injured.

The unmoving body of Ellen Harvelle seemed to become a striving goal for the demons, but Jo fought them off skilfully, protecting her mother with moves Bobby had never seen from her before.

He looked at her in awe, and she simply turned to him, muttering, "I lived at the road-house for most of my life, crossing paths with thousands of hunters in the process," she shrugged, "What'd you expect?"

Bobby turned to see how their fellow warriors were handling the situation, when something caught his eye.

After a double take, whatever it was that Bobby had seen was gone. He thought he'd just seen…

_No, it couldn't have been._

Or could it?

_First Sam sees her, and now me?_

_But what the heck would Bella be doing here?  


* * *

_

Dean had no idea what happened.

One moment he had been dangling in Iahamu's grasp, utterly helpless, and in the next he'd been falling, before hitting the hard surface of the _Earth_ with a loud thud.

Iahamu had retreated backwards, and when Dean opened his eyes, he glimpsed a bright blue light shining out towards him. He couldn't see the face of its source, but whoever – or whatever – it was controlling that power, he was grateful to them.

An incredible force radiated from this unknown visitor, powerful enough to repel Lucifer _and_ Iahamu at once.

When Dean had finished gasping for air after his sudden release, he wasted no time curling up on the ground.

Pouncing forward, he grasped the Manuscripts of Vanatuhi firmly in his hand; it seemed that Lucifer had dropped them at his feet at the arrival of Dean's saviour.

Dean knew what Iahamu had told him, about only demon's being capable of wielding the power of the Ancient texts, but a curious thought struck his mind.

_I've been to hell,_ Dean thought to himself, _what's to say that I don't have demon blood in me too? Even just a fragment of Demon would do it for me._

Looking down at the Manuscripts beneath his fingers, Dean couldn't make out what the inscriptions meant. They were random carvings, ancient runes that meant absolutely nothing to him. He sighed, knowing that Iahamu was right. Only someone with true Demon blood inside of them could correctly decipher the Ancient Manuscripts.

If only he could have tapped into their power, he could have brought his father back into the body of Iahamu, and the three of them would have finished this battle at long last. But that would also require Sam, who was in no way capable of helping him.

The glowing Blue light dulled and Dean recognised the face immediately as it turned to him.

"Bella!" He gasped, "Why…?"

She smirked at him, "Dean, though you truly are a pain in the arse sometimes, I couldn't let you just die out here."

"Okay," he glanced over at Iahamu and Lucifer, who were – somehow – being repelled by the items in her arms, "Allow me to rephrase: …how?"

She grinned, and allowed him a closer look at the objects she held. There were three rocks with different symbols imprinted upon them, all hovering in a wide circle inside a misty blue force field of some sort, held between her hands.

"Tria Fata," she replied, "Do those words mean anything to you?"

Dean strained his memory, attempting to recall where he'd heard them before. "Yes, actually, I remember Bobby saying something about them when he described to me what the Parcaex Ritual does."

She nodded, "The Parcaex Ritual is otherwise known as Tria Fata, which is 'Three Fates'. The Parcaex Ritual, through which Lucifer returned, is an irreversible ritual, but that doesn't mean that it can't be countered. The Three Fates were Roman goddesses who controlled the - metaphorical - thread of life of every mortal _and_ immortal, from birth to death. Their names were _Nona, Decima _and _Morta. _Upon each of these stones I hold in my hand, their own personal rune is imprinted. The power of the three goddesses brought Lucifer back, and so the power of the three goddesses can counter him."

"And Iahamu too?"

"The three fates have power over every being."

Dean suddenly had a thought, "Can you help Sam?"

She moved forward towards the three victims of her spell without answering him, the light from her stones fading further. "I don't have much more time, my energy is failing me, but I can grant you this single last deed."

"Where did you get these items," Dean asked, amazed.

"There will be a time for further explanations, but that is not now." She grinned at him, "This is your fight now, Dean, and you must end it."

She closed her eyes and manoeuvred the power towards his brother. Sam dropped to the ground where he stood, undertaking the same physical pain that it took to become controlled by Lucifer, to become extracted of his power. He crawled forwards in agony, and Dean ran to him, guiding him away from the diminishing forcefeild, an anger like no other burning in Iahamu and Lucifer's eyes.

"Good luck to you both, I must take my leave." Bella whispered to them, and disappeared into the darkness.

Sam fought the pain throbbing inside his head, as Iahamu and Lucifer were set free. In an instant, Dean - not being immune to Iahamu's power - was thrown backwards once more, and Sam glanced over at the Manuscripts of Vanatuhi laying only a few metres to his left.

Lucifer realised his intentions and let out a phenomenally loud roar, diving towards the Manuscripts as Sam also lunged.

Sam had been closer.

Rolling from the ground to his feet, clutching the Manuscripts firmly in his hand, Sam began to chant the inscriptions upon the page, set out clearly for him in plain English.

He fixed his mind upon his intentions, and for the second time in three weeks he felt in complete control. The feeling was overwhelming, but as he spoke his needs through the power of his mind, he felt great agony as they took place.

Lucifer couldn't get close enough to stop Sam, for the forcefeild surrounding him was just too large.

But he tried anyway.

Throwing himself violently quickly against the forcefeild, Lucifer attempted to gain access to Sam. In one instant, electrifying shock, the forcefeild caught Lucifer off-guard, and suddenly the body he inhabited was released of his dark energy.

The true form of Lucifer had become revealed at last.

A twisting, torn mass of dark flame erupted and set itself before Sam, who gasped at the sight, almost losing his connection with the manuscripts. Its hands were flaming shadows, and the only visible parts of his body were the deep red flames of his eyes shining through the darkness. The view was horrific, and not only did he _look_ menacing, the presence of his true form radiated immense power.

"Come on, Sam!" Dean screamed, fighting off Iahamu the best he could with the knife of Palladium.

Iahamu kept his distance, not wanting to be struck with such a weapon, but he was close enough to stop Dean from escaping too.

Sam concentrated ever harder on his goal. He knew what he wanted, and that was his father's soul, back from Lucifer, to be brought back into his regular body.

Iahamu collapsed in a heap on the hard earth, and Dean realised that Sam was succeeding. An invisible energy passed from Sam to Lucifer, and then down to Iahamu on the ground.

It was working.

It only took a few more seconds, and by the end his mind felt as if it would explode at any moment. The feeling of power passed from Sam, and his connection with the Manuscripts was broken, the deed done.

But now he was vulnerable.

Lucifer reached out to him, and though his magical abilities were incapable of affecting Sam, his physical violence was affected in no way at all. Sam was knocked backwards, a large bruise swelling on the side of his face, and Lucifer advanced upon him, nudging him slowly, ever closer to the Devils Gates. He was going to do to him what Iahamu tried to do to Dean.

"Dad?" Dean whispered, shaking the body of John Winchester, "Dad, are you there?"

The body lay silent, and Dean shook it harder. "Come on!"

Ever so slowly, John Winchester opened his eyes and gazed upon his son, tears beginning to swell in his eyes.

Dean forced himself to focus on what needed to be done, and pulled his father to his feet. John seemed to understand, and they took up their weapons. Lucifer realised what was happening and backed off from Sam, his deathly glare not even slightly intimidating them.

The cold hatred had been extracted from his eyes, replaced by something else that Dean could have sworn almost seemed like… _fear_.

Sam pulled himself to his feet and spent a valuable few seconds gazing at his father, whose eyes shone with deep happiness at the sight of him. Sam nodded, and Dean threw to him the knife of Ollathair.

Dean held the knife of Palladium, and John drew the sword of Amaethon in front of him. For the first time in a thousand years, the three Crusaders were united once more. The weapons glowed beneath their hands, and each Winchester spoke the Latin words upon the hilt of the weapons, thus summoning their power.

_"Vox adieu mucro."_

_"Nex peregrinus diabolus."_

_"Exercitus hostilis ritus iuguolo!"_

John Winchester's last words echoed through the clearing, and the swords' faint glow erupted into a blinding light before them.

Lucifer knew that his time had come.

The three Winchesters advanced upon him, and the devil couldn't move himself, the blinding rays of light trapping him inside a magical circle, sealing his fate. The three weapons became hot in their hands as they moved closer, but they cared not for the physical pain.

The three lifted their weapons high in the air, ready to strike, and Lucifer let out a final horrific shriek as they plunged downwards, striking his vulnerable body with the Crusader weapons, vanquishing him from the Earth once and for all.

The explosion that followed was utterly _enormous_, but it caused no physical damage to the Winchesters. The figure of Lucifer just imploded upon itself, and when the silence returned, he was no more.  


* * *

Jo and Bobby fought to protect the injured Ellen, but their energy levels were running dangerously low and it took everything they could muster just to swing their arm out in weak defence.

The Demons realised that they'd become tired, and the Hunters had thought they had lost the battle when, simultaneously, every demon in sight began to shriek in pain, cringing and stepping backwards away from the fight.

Jo and Bobby watched in shock as the wall of Demons suddenly evaporated into a thick shadow and left the battle site, an eerie silence taking their place, the shocked hunters standing with their mouth agape.

It only took a few seconds to register, and enormous rounds of cheers swallowed the silence, bellowing out to the heavens. Victory hailed them, and they dropped to their knees, energy shortage burning within all of them, but they cared not, for they had won.

Jo leant down to her mum, who was awake but weak and sore. Tears rolled down Jo's face, curling down her thin lips as she whispered, "They did it, Mum. The gates are finally closed. Sam and Dean won."

She smiled weakly, "I knew they would. They always do."

* * *

The Devils Gates stood closed in front of them after absorbing every last demon left inside the fifty square mile Devils Trap that surrounded them.

"Do you reckon any escaped?" Dean asked, panting.

John smiled, "If they did, it's nothing you boys can't handle."

Sam and Dean smiled weakly, exhaustion overwhelming them. A single task as such had worn them out phenomenally, but they summoned every last ounce of energy they had left and warmly embraced their father.

"It's good to see you two again," John whispered, "It's been a while."

Sam nodded, "You too, Dad."

They broke apart, and John looked down at the Manuscripts of Vanatuhi in Sam's hands. "It seems that we still have a job to do, boys."

"And what's that?" Dean asked curiously.

"Why, destroy the Manuscripts of course!"

Sam looked up, "Iahamu told us, remember Dean? If you destroy the Manuscripts, then the border between Hell and Earth can never be crossed again."

"But then what about all the other demons that are still left?" Dean questioned, "Won't that mean they can't die?"

John shook his head, "No, they will pass into the afterlife. It may not be the ideal place for something of their evil, but this way they will never emerge from hell again. The population of Demons can only go down from this point on."

"But other creatures?"

"They're not Demons, and they are formed in many different ways. The destruction of the Manuscripts would not affect them in the slightest, having nothing to do with Hell at all."

"But Dad," Sam replied, "Iahamu told us that there is only one thing that can destroy the Manuscripts, and that it is very rare. He didn't tell us what it was, and so we have no idea."

John grinned, and then explained, "These weapons are what he was talking about," gesturing towards the Crusaders blades, "It's just like he said, they _are_ very rare. The writing in Latin on the side of the weapons speaks a spell capable of vanquishing the 'Devil'. Since Lucifer is a direct descendant of Hell's creator, Vanatuhi, I assumed that Vanatuhi was also once known as the 'Devil', which means king of the underworld. If I'm right, then these weapons would have had the power to do to Vanatuhi what we just did to Lucifer.

"These Manuscripts were created personally by him when his life-force was broken, and so his last remaining strand of life attached to this earth are the scripts you hold in your hands, Sammy."

Sam let them go, and the Manuscripts of Vanatuhi dropped to the ground. He picked up the knife of Ollathair, and the other two did the same with their own. Bending over, the three stabbed downwards with the knives, slicing three direct holes through the Manuscripts.

An electrical current passed between the pages and the knives, and it erupted in flames for a small moment, before creasing upon itself and becoming nothing but a pile of ashes, to be blown into the wind and never looked upon again.

"You've done well, boys," John nodded, "But I'm afraid that's all the time we have for now."

"Why?" Dean turned to him, "Can't you stay with us?"

John shook his head, "The body that you brought me back to is not my own anymore. It belongs to a demon now, who still resides somewhere within this shell. I am simply a human possessing a Demon, which by the laws of nature just _doesn't_ work. But I thank you deeply, for now I can rest properly in whatever place I'm sent to next, for my soul is intact and no longer bound to hell."

"Find peace," Dean nodded, "You owe us that much."

John laughed as tears began to roll down his cheeks, "I will, Dean. I will."

His physical image began to flicker, and they gazed into the eyes of one another for the last time, sealing into place their last moments of bonding so that they would never forget it.

John Winchester's body evaporated into the night sky, and tears dropped from both their cheeks, splashing onto the dewy surface below and sinking beneath the surface.


	25. Epilogue

**SUPERNATURAL**

**THE PARCAEX RITUAL**

**Epilogue**

_Two weeks later  
_

Ellen was almost in tears. "You boys, I _cannot_ thank you enough."

All it had taken was thirty men, two weeks and truckloads of supplies, and the Harvelle Roadhouse looked better than ever. Its new wooden frame, coated in a fine brown paint glinted in the sunlight above.

Jo arrived in Bobby's truck, her mouth agape as she stared up at her former and future home, brilliantly rebuilt. She ran from the truck and threw herself into her mother's arms, the two of them crying on one another's shoulder.

Ellen had spent the last week and a half in hospital, in a stable but bad condition. It had only been two days since she had been let go, and she was as healthy as ever. A slight limp in her left leg was a small price to pay for what they had been given.

"No problem, Ellen," Dean nodded, "You deserve it."

Sam laughed, "You know Ellen, this really _is_ a big feet for Dean."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, this is the first time that he's actually _kept_ a promise to a woman."

Ellen laughed, and Dean rounded on him, "What's _that _supposed to mean?"

Jo punched him playfully, "Give it up Dean, we both know it's true."

Dean laughed awkwardly, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Sam watched as Jo looked up at Dean, a longing in her eyes, and cleared his throat, "Hey Ellen, how about we show you inside, yeah?"

She nodded, and they left Jo and Dean on their own. The mood was light and happy, and even Bella had shown up for the opening of the roadhouse.

Ellen – hands trembling – opened the front door and stepped inside, allowing her eyes to adjust before looking about with utter amazement. She had desired this for so long, and now that they had given it to her, Sam knew that it was all worth it.

Tears of immense happiness streamed down her face, and she examined every inch of the place. It looked almost exactly the way it once had, with a few added hospitalities. After a few minutes, Jo walked in with her arm around Dean, who looked pretty pleased with himself.

Sam smiled at the two of them, and Jo let go of Dean, walking forward to look upon her home once more. It was an emotional moment for both the Harvelle girls, and the moment was soon broken by the arrival of a final truckload.

They all ran outside to see Bobby pull up, delivering the Roadhouse their first supply of drinks and hot food for everyone.

"Free drinks on the house!" Ellen yelled, and everyone started helping to unpack crates of alcohol, carrying them into a small room behind the bar.

After a few minutes, everyone had settled down inside the Roadhouse, catching up with one another and sharing different sides of their story from the past two weeks.

Sam noticed Bella sitting by herself, staring up at the ceiling in her own world, and walked over to her.

"Do you mind some company?"

Bella looked up at him and smiled, "How are you, Sam?"

"If it weren't for you, I'd probably be causing destruction and havoc across every state in America by now, so I say I'm doing quite fine the way things have turned out."

She nodded, "I'm glad."

"I've been meaning to ask you," Sam fumbled for the right words, "I'm not sure how to describe what happened in that graveyard, and I'm curious to find out how, even after what Dean has told me. But what I really wanted to ask is… why?"

Bella sighed, "Because of what you boys have done for me, I've found myself amongst a pile of unanswerable questions, and what was once lost I've found in myself again. I can be selfish at times, – well, most of the time – but you boys saved my life. More than once, I might add, and I _hate _owing a dept to someone."

"How did you learn of this stuff, all that Tria Fata?"

She smirked, "I know many things that you don't. As you know fully well, I am no hunter, but a collector. There are many things to be collected, and the power of Tria Fata is something that not everybody has the power to control."

"Then, why _you_?"

"My family can be traced back, hundreds of generations to the Roman royalty's of ancient times, who were believed to be descendants of the Roman Goddess Nona, one of the 'Three Fates'."

"So they were those items you've been collecting this whole time, those little stones?"

She nodded, "I'd traced their heritage back to their current owners, and followed them up from there. I've owned one of the Fates for a long time, and found another with Gordon Walker, though he wasn't a descendant, but apparently he'd taken it from a vampire he had killed. Most likely it was the Vampire's heritage."

"And the other?" Sam questioned further, "You got from the demon, Xelas?"

She nodded again, "Once more, that rock was not with its rightful owner either. When I found the last descendant who had been killed, I went on a hunt for the one who killed him. I found Xelas and struck a deal, which of course you know all about.

"At first I had planned to use the Fates to get myself out of that accursed deal, but I was too late to find the final piece, even though I knew who had it."

"Sammy!"

Sam looked up at Dean, who beckoned him over to the bar. "Do you mind?"

Bella shook her head, standing up, "I must be off now, anyway."

"Oh? Where to?"

"Wherever my job takes me."

Sam smiled, "Good luck with that."

"Thanks. We'll meet again, I'm sure of it."

He nodded, "Just don't get in our way again."

Bella laughed, "I'll try, just don't get in _mine_."

She turned on her heel and strode out towards the door, stopping for a quick farewell with Dean, and closing the door behind her as she went.

"Do you reckon it's gonna get easier from here on in?" Dean asked as Sam approached.

Sam laughed, "Easier? Our lives are never easy, man. We're far from at peace yet, I assure you."

He threw Sam a beer, "Sit down, and drink with us."

Sam sat in the stool beside Dean and pulled off the bottle-cap.

Ellen stood up on a wooden chair stacked behind the counter and raised her glass. The room fell silent watching her.

"This is the greatest gift I could ever have asked for," She fought back tears as she spoke, "This roadhouse had been my home for sixteen years, and when it burnt to the ground, I felt as if I had lost a part of me. It had become not only my home, but also a refuge to _me_, and all those who regularly stopped by on their way through.

"I would like to thank you all for rebuilding my home and my hopes, and to Dean for keeping his promise."

"Cheers, Ellen," Dean raised his own bottle.

"You boys," she looked down upon Sam and Dean, "You really have no idea of the impact you make, do you?"

The two looked at each other, and then shook their heads and Dean replied, "Nope, not really."

Ellen shook her head, then spoke again, "To the Winchesters," she raised her glass, "For bringing hope back into our futures."

A clanging of glasses followed, and the smiling brothers drank to their own praise.

"Gosh, I'm hungry," Dean stated, rubbing his stomach and looking around for some hot food, "Ellen, any chance you could bring me some-"

Ellen threw something to him, "_Pie!_" Dean exclaimed.

She laughed at his enthusiasm, "So you boys will be off soon, I'm assuming?"

"Yeah," Sam revealed, "We've just got to figure out where we'll be heading off to next."

"What've you got planned?"

Dean smirked, "The true terror may be gone, but there's still _plenty_ out there to hunt."

Ellen nodded to him, and then pulled open the first of her crates and began to unpack, "You boys better watch yourselves."

"Don't worry, we'll stop by as often as possible," Dean assured her unconvincingly.

"_Sure_ you will,' Ellen laughed. 'So what happens now?' Ellen asked, 'You have nothing left.'

Sam shook his head, glancing over towards his brother. 'Don't be like that,' he answered, 'We still have each other.'

Dean nodded, tearing another piece of pie off with his teeth. 'Yes,' he said, 'We do.'

And that's enough.

* * *

**Thanks a lot for reading!! Cuddygirl18, especially, thanks for the reviews - I hope you enjoyed it ^_^**


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